


Genesis

by dyiansobrien



Series: Harper Verum Series [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Aged-Up Character(s), Bisexual Lydia Martin, F/M, Set in the future, Teen Wolf Season 7, bisexual oc, teen wolf spinoff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 86,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29543118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyiansobrien/pseuds/dyiansobrien
Summary: [ BOOK five out of five ] COMPLETEDIt's been seven years since Harper Verum had fought beside her pack in a supernatural battle, and three years since she'd last stepped foot in Beacon Hills.However, when Scott McCall and Allison Argent send out invites to their wedding, Harper has no choice but to return to the town she grew up in and reunite with the family she hadn't seen for so long.But it's Beacon Hills, and nothing ever stays perfect for too long there. With the whole pack back together again, it seems something dark wants to keep them there a little longer, and they find themselves reliving their teenage years one last time.
Relationships: Stiles Stilinski/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Harper Verum Series [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165103
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐍, 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊

seven years later.

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 three years, Harper Verum had found out numerous things; one of those things being that New York was the worst place to be when trying to get home after a long day at work.

Everything seemed to be beeping all at once as the rain lashed down around her, soaking through her clothes and making her hair stick to her freezing skin.

A stranger shoved into her, sending her stumbling from where she held her hand in the air, attempting to hail a cab. She rolled her coffee-coloured eyes at the man who didn't even bother to apologise, a small huff escaping her lips.

Despite that one song saying that there was nothing you can't do in New York, Harper would like to beg to differ and suggest that one thing you couldn't do was move.

Bodies slammed into her from all angles and she was starting to get royally pissed off, her bottom lip caught between her teeth to prevent her from cursing out loud.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity and a half, a yellow cab started to pull away from the hectic traffic and drift towards her. She yanked open the back door and climbed inside, managing a small smile at the taxi driver through the mirror.

"Where to?" His New York accent was thick and something Harper thought she would never get used to, but nevertheless she told the man her address and prayed he wasn't one for small talk.

Sinking back into her seat, Harper released a sigh and closed her eyes, her body thanking her for finding somewhere to sit.

Today had been a lot, and all Harper fancied was a hot bath and a good sleep. Clients had been in and out all day, a couple of new ones, but mostly the regulars. Even if being a therapist was generally rewarding, it was also extremely tiring.

"Yeah, right here, thanks," Harper murmured once the driver pulled up to her building around forty-five minutes later.

She paid and tipped the man before climbing back out into the harsh weather. California had had its moments, but it was nothing like this. This weather reminded her more of back home in England, and she couldn't say she particularly enjoyed it.

Harper did a small jog into her building, smiling at the receptionist.

"Hi Maggie. Any mail for me today?"

"Miss Verum," the woman behind the desk greeted. "Your boyfriend took your mail up."

The brunette nodded, "thanks, Maggie."

Harper moved into elevator, hitting the button to her floor. She tried to squeeze out some of the water from her shoulder-length hair the best she could while she waited, her teeth chattering as the aircon blew on her from above. She wondered who the hell's idea that one was.

Grabbing her key out of her bag, Harper moved over to her apartment, pursing her lips at the golden lettering of '24'. It was a complete coincidence, honestly.

She pushed open the door, her dark brows furrowing at the scent of something Mexican coming from the kitchen. Faint sizzling from a pan filled her ears and she smiled a little, shrugging her coat off of her body and hanging it up on the rack by the door.

The brunette glanced around the living space, seeing her boyfriend had flung his coat over the back of the cream couch rather than actually putting it away tidily. Call her fussy, but Harper appreciated a clean home, and that's what hers was. She reached forward and put it up next to hers, his cologne instantly filling her nostrils.

"Harper?" She heard his American accent call, "in the kitchen, babe."

"Coming!" She replied, peeling off her heels and dropping back down to her natural state of being a short ass.

Once Harper reached the kitchen, the dark-haired man turned around and sent her an easy grin, dusting his hands on his jeans and moving forward to wrap her in a tight hug. He quickly pulled back upon realising how wet she was.

"You're soaked!" He laughed, shaking his head.

"Yeah, I know," Harper couldn't bring herself to smile about it. "I had a long day at work too. So thanks for making dinner, Calum."

Calum Davis cooed her as if she was a baby, his slender fingers reaching out to brush her cheekbone. Harper would never admit it, but she hated it when he hushed her like that. It was just small things about him that irked her, and she knew why. 

( calum )   
( calum ) 

The brunette reached up and gently grabbed his hand, peeling it off of her face and sending him a shy smile. Calum turned back to what he was doing at the stove, his eyes panning to the counter where a few letters were stacked.

"Oh, I picked up your mail," he told her, "and you got a parcel. I put it on your bed."

"Thanks," Harper murmured, grabbing them off the marble counter. "I'm gonna have a quick bath, get all of this rainwater off of me."

"Dinner's ready in twenty."

He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Harper kissed back, although her mind was distracted with thoughts of how shit her day had been. She pulled away sooner than Calum would have liked.

Harper sighed as she left the room, shifting through her mail with a bored expression written across her face. She dropped it all onto her counter. Nothing but bills.

Oh, the joys of adulthood.

The woman moved into the bathroom and turned the water on before retreating to her bedroom.

She paused when she came across the box that Calum had mentioned on her queen-sized bed. Harper hadn't ordered anything online in a while, so she was genuinely curious about what it was. She grabbed a pair of nail scissors off of the side and cut the tape delicately.

The petite brunette gasped at everything that was inside. It was all either soft pink or white, shielded by white confetti. There were rose-scented candles, cute facemasks, lip balms and other adorable knick-knacks. She picked the letter up from the top. 

I can't say 'I DO' without you!

Harper, will you be my bridesmaid? 

Harper furrowed her brows in confusion and flipped the card around. 

To Harper Verum

Please join us for the wedding of

Allison & Scott

we request the pleasure of your company to celebrate their marriage at Beacon Hills Church on Saturday 18th June 2021 at 12 noon and afterwards at a reception in the Oak Suite.

RVSP

scottandallison-gmail.com

Harper could have sworn that her heart stopped beating for a second. She clutched the beautifully-detailed piece of card in her dainty fingers, her dark brown eyes wide. This had been the last thing she had been expecting today, and she honestly wasn't sure what to think.

First, she was so happy for the childhood sweethearts. After everything that both Scott McCall and Allison Argent had been through, this was the least they deserved. She couldn't imagine how excited the two were.

However, Harper couldn't help the jealousy that bubbled in her stomach as she set the invitation down on her dresser beside her collection of perfumes.

Memories of the days that she was proposed to filled her brain, memories of how happy and in love she had been. They never got to plan their big day, or ever go through with it.

This should say 'Harper & Stiles', her subconscious thought.

Harper shook the thoughts out of her head with a scowl on her face. She felt awful for being so pathetic, especially when Calum was in the kitchen making dinner for her. He was a good boyfriend, he really was, but he would never in a million years compare to Stiles Stilinski, and Harper knew it. She would be a clown to even try and convince herself otherwise.

"Shit," she muttered when she realised the water was almost to the top of the bath.

She ran a hand through her hair, only just noticing how sweaty her palms were. Tears pricked her eyes as she locked the bathroom door behind her, moving over to the tub and starting to take off her clothes. Harper tossed them into the corner of the room and sank into the hot water, closing her eyes.

Thoughts of the last time she'd seen the man she was still in love with came flooding back all at once, meddling with the stress she'd indured that day. 

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐎

"All we do is fucking argue now," Stiles snapped at her, running a hand through his tousled hair and releasing a stressed sigh. "I miss the old us."

"Not my fault you can't seem to do anything right," Harper grumbled under her breath, reaching down to grab the shards of glass from the floor.

"I can't do anything right?" Stiles repeated with a mocking laugh, an incredulous look on his exhausted face. "At least I'm not the one who's changed!"

"I haven't changed," the brunette grabbed a large piece of glass and threw it into the bin beside her, not even looking up from where he loomed over her. "You just haven't grown up, Stiles."

"You're going to hurt yourself."

"Shut up."

Stiles didn't say anything. He watched as she tried to tidy, knowing she was going to end up cutting her hand but not even bothering to stop her. Sure enough, seconds later, she was hissing in pain and retracting her hand from the plate he had accidentally dropped that had led to this argument.

"I told you-"

"Oh my god!" Harper stood up and flung her arms about. "Will you please just leave me alone for five seconds? I get it. I get it! You're always right, Stiles."

The dark-haired man rolled his eyes. "This is not my fault."

They were silent again as Harper moved over to the sink and started to run her hand under cold water. Stiles sighed and moved over to one of the cupboards of their shitty apartment, pulling out their medicine box. He grabbed the plasters and bandages, depending on how deep her cut was- if she would even let him look.

"Are you crying?" He asked softly when he noticed her frame shaking from behind.

"We're killing each other, Stiles," Harper whimpered, and his heart broke. "You're right, okay? All we do is argue and fight and we're going to be the death of each other."

"I know," Stiles moved to stand beside her at the sink, dropping the boxes onto the counter.

"If we're not careful, we're going to end up hating each other."

"I could never hate you," the Stilinski boy whispered, "but we're young and we're stressed. This is all too much."

"I know," Harper croaked, wiping her eyes with her arm and keeping the other under the freezing water, watching as some of the blood started to trickle down the drain with it. "I wish we were still teenagers."

"Me too."

Stiles and Harper had left high school thinking they could easily take on the rest of the world as long as they had each other. However, they'd come to realise that sometimes just having each other wasn't enough.

They spent far too much time apart with their new jobs, and when they were together all they did was argue. Whether it was over the fact that they couldn't afford the rent, the stress of their jobs, the weight of being engaged so young and just growing up in general, it was like Harper and Stiles made it their mission to tear each other down.

"We need some time apart," Harper mumbled, watching as Stiles' eyes welled with tears too. "I think we're suffocating each other, Sti."

His heart clenched at the nickname but agreed with her. "I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"I don't want to hurt you either. I love you so fucking much, Stiles. We need this."

They broke up because they loved each other too much to hurt each other. The last thing they wanted was to completely ruin their relationship. Harper wished that over the past three years they'd somehow met in the middle again, but at this point, Harper was too scared to call him up. He probably lived back in California with some beautiful girlfriend and they probably shared a golden retriever that they treated like their own baby and took him on walks all of the time while holding hands and-

Stop it, Harper.

"Babe!" Calum called from behind the door, followed by a few knocks on the door. "Dinner's ready."

Harper quickly splashed her tear-stained face with the warm water. "I'll be right out."

It had taken her so long to move on from Stiles, and even now she hadn't moved on properly. She'd only been seeing Calum for a few months. His sister was one of her old clients, so they'd met that way.

In a lot of ways, he reminded her of Stiles and that's what had drawn her to him. He had cheekbones that were to die for, dark hair and dark eyes. He styled it the way that Stiles did during high school, and sometimes, if she caught him at an odd angle, her breath would get caught in her throat because for a split second she'd think it was actually him.

She liked him. He was sweet and he took good care of her. She trusted him enough to give him the key to her apartment, but he was no Stiles. Nobody would ever be Stiles. Nobody but Stiles Stilinski himself.

... 

"Anything good?"

Harper glanced up from where she was putting the chicken in her fajita wrap, a confused frown on her face. Calum was watching her expectantly as if she should know what he was talking about. He didn't notice the way her eyes were rimmed slightly red, but Stiles would have.

The brunette cursed that letter for all of these constant thoughts of her ex-boyfriend coming back. It had been three years since she'd seen him and she hadn't compared Calum to Stiles this much since the first three weeks of their relationship.

"Your parcel," the dark-haired man chuckled, grabbing a nacho and stuffing it in his mouth. "Just clothes... or?"

Harper swallowed, "I got a bridesmaid invitation for back home."

"Oo, London?"

"No," she couldn't stop the annoyance from lacing her tone. "Beacon Hills. I'm not even from London, remember?"

"Oh yeah, sorry," Calum reached forward and grabbed her hand across the table. "Who's wedding is it?"

"Scott and Allison's," Harper spoke, "it's in a months time. I'll probably fly out a week early to see everyone."

"Everyone?" His voice held jealousy.

Of course, he knew about Stiles. Most of her childhood, all of her teenage years and a chunk of her adult life had been spent with him. He was in almost every single photo, every story. She spoke about him with a sparkle in her eye, and then afterwards she always seemed so sad and dull. He knew she missed him, even if she wouldn't admit it.

"I mean, everyone that's invited," Harper pulled her hand back from him and stared down at the food on her plate.

She felt bad since she didn't even feel like eating anymore. The invitation had made her lose her appetite or more so what the invitation meant for her. Harper was ecstatic that she would be seeing Scott, Allison, Lydia, Isaac, Malia and everybody else again... but she hadn't seen Stiles since that night and of course, he would be invited- he'd most definitely be Scott's best man.

"So that means Miles."

"Stiles," Harper corrected him bitterly, unsure why he was pretending he didn't know his name.

The tension was rising hot and fast, and for some reason, Harper wanted it to. She wanted this all to fall apart. The invitation to go back to Beacon Hills had reminded her of how Manhattan wasn't her home. This apartment wasn't her home.

Stiles had once said, when Harper was on the verge of ending her own life, that her home was wherever she was comfortable, and that his home was with her. She didn't feel comfortable here— she had no family in this big city.

"Sorry, Stiles," Calum corrected himself with a roll of the eyes. "What kind of name is Stiles, by the way?" He tried to joke.

Harper immediately stood from her seat, dropping her fork onto the plate and creating a loud clattering noise. Calum looked up at her in shock.

"I can't sit here anymore," she muttered, "let yourself out when you're done eating."

Harper was usually a pretty tolerant person, and she had patience. She was good at empathising— it was not only her job, but her supernatural ability. However, when people spoke badly of the man that had saved her life and loved her when she felt like nobody else did, Harper couldn't handle it.

The brunette stopped in her place when a hand grabbed her wrist and forced her to turn around. Her nose almost brushed Calum's chest, causing her to take a step back. When she glanced up, he was glaring down at her.

"Just sit back down and finish the meal I made you, Harps," he ordered.

Harper scoffed, "I tell you not to call me that. Let me go, asshole."

"Why are you being so bitchy?" Calum exclaimed, chuckling in disbelief as he released his grip on her. "Anyone would think you're still in love with the guy."

Harper closed her eyes. "Just stop talking shit about him all the time. Stop being so jealous and possessive."

Calum frowned innocently. "Sorry for not liking the fact that the person who belongs to me still has feelings for her ex."

"I do not belong to you," the brunette's lip curled in disgust as she looked at him. "I think you should probably go before we end up falling out, Calum."

"If you don't belong to me, then who do you belong to? Stiles?"

"No, not Stiles. Not you. Myself. Consider this conversation over. You can go now. Bye."

His large hand suddenly sprung out and smacked Harper around the face. She stumbled back and clutched her cheek. It felt like it was on fire, but her heart was hotter. She was absolutely furious, an expression of pure disgust on her face.

"What the fuck did you just do?" She laughed humorlessly, shaking her head. "Who the fuck do you actually think you are?"

Calum held his angry stance, not even slightly intimidated by the woman that he towered over by a whole foot. Suddenly, he was being grasped by his arms and bent down, a knee smashing into his groin and a head hitting his nose. He groaned and fell back, watching as crimson liquid dripped from his nose and onto the cream carpet below.

"We're over, dickhead. Get out of my house."

Harper had a certain Argent to call. 

𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃, 𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐍  
𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃, 𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 he rolled over in bed, his arm moving to shield his eyes from the sunlight pouring through his window. He lay there for a few minutes, attempting to collect himself before he shifted out of his bed. The man trailed over to his bathroom, glancing at himself in the mirror and scratching his bearded chin.

He had to admit that he did look kind of rough. There was a cut above his left eyebrow that was only just starting to heal and his skin was quite pale again. His hair was shaggy and rested messily around his ears and the twenty-five-year-old had failed to shave in over a month.

Despite not looking as tidy as he did when he was a teenager, it didn't mean Stiles didn't care about hygiene. He reached into the cup by his sink and grabbed his toothbrush, smothering it with toothpaste and sticking it in his mouth. He sleepily started to brush his teeth, still trying to blink his hazel eyes awake.

A knock at his front door caused him to grunt. He spat out the paste and washed around his mouth, moving through his apartment. He opened the door and stared at the delivery man stood on the other side with a box.

"I didn't order anything," Stiles moved to close the door, but the man stuck his foot in the way.

"Ah, ah!" He had a foreign accent, but Stiles couldn't pinpoint it. "For Stiles... Bilinski?"

He sighed, "that's me."

He signed the electronic device that the man stuck out in front of him and closed the door, moving the box into his dining room and dropping it on the table. He grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer and cut it open, raising his eyebrows at everything inside. Some candles, a few masculine skincare products.

"What the fuck?" He muttered, picking up the card on top which had a bow tie on it. 

SUIT UP.

YOUR SERVICE AS A BEST MAN IS REQUIRED. 

Stiles raised his brows and flipped the card. 

To Stiles Stilinski

Please join us for the wedding of

Allison & Scott

we request the pleasure of your company to celebrate their marriage at Beacon Hills Church on Saturday 18th June 2021 at 12 noon and afterwards at a reception in the Oak Suite.

RVSP

scottandallison-gmail.com 

He wanted to smile. He was happy for Scott, but his mind instantly cast to the girl that he never got to marry. Stiles placed the card back down on the table and moved over to his bedroom, reaching down into the bedside drawer. He dug past all of the mess inside and grabbed a black box.

Flipping it open, he stared at the diamond ring inside and felt his face fall. While he hated looking at this thing with a passion, Stiles found himself torturing himself more nights than not. He hadn't glanced at it in a while, but that didn't mean Harper Verum hadn't been on his mind.

In fact, it felt like he couldn't get a break from the damn woman. They may have ended things three years ago, but she never once left his heart. She was still the only person he had ever loved, and at this point, he was pretty sure it was permanent. He'd been right; they were soulmates.

There had been a couple of other girls in the past year, but they'd never been girlfriends- just random hookups when he was too drunk to function. He hated the feeling he got when he woke up the next morning and realised the girl that looked exactly like his ex-girlfriend wasn't actually Harper. They always looked just like her— petite frames, brown eyes, brown hair...

But none of them were Harper.

Stiles tried to push her stupid, beautiful face out of his brain. He reached for his phone and pulled it off of charge, going to his contact list. It had been a few months since he'd called Scott, but he always blamed work; being an FBI Agent was time-consuming.

Scott picked up after a few rings.

"Hey, dude!" He sounded excited, "did you get my invitation?"

"Yeah, yeah. Congratulations, man," Stiles replied, feeling himself relax as he propped himself up against his pillows. "You excited?"

"Of course. Allison's going all bridezilla, though," Scott replied, "Lydia's flown over from LA to help her organise and stuff."

"Sweet, sweet," Stiles stalled, "anyway... I just- I'm sorry, but I won't be able to make it, buddy."

There was a pause on the other end. "Why?"

"Work-"

"It's because of Harper, isn't it?"

Stiles felt like he had been shot in the chest; his breath was caught in his throat. Nobody had actually mentioned her to him in so long, it felt honestly surreal to hear it out loud. Everybody knew how hard the couple had taken the breakup. Scott was devastated that his two best friends hadn't been able to work this argument out. Nothing had been the same since.

"No," Stiles lied, "why? Is she going to be there?"

"Allison asked her to be a bridesmaid," Scott responded, "but she hasn't heard back yet. Harper actually lives in Manhattan now, so it might take a while to get all the way over there."

Stiles didn't want to admit that he knew Harper lived in New York. He may or may not have abused his FBI privileges a few times, one of those times being to look up his ex-lover. There wasn't much on her, considering she had no criminal record. All he knew was that she lived in a nice apartment and she was good at her job.

"Yeah, yeah... I mean... I guess I can try and get some time off," Stiles murmured.

"Stiles, my dad said you have a break for the next month," Scott sighed, causing the Stilinski to freeze on the other end of the line.

Of course Agent McCall had told him.

"Come home," Scott tried to persuade him, "be my best man... Or I guess I could ask Isaac."

Stiles huffed and Scott laughed, knowing bringing up Isaac would irk him.

"Fine! Fine! I'll come home."


	2. Chapter 2

Harper woke alone in her queen-sized bed. Everything was silent aside from the weather outside, the skies already showering the grey city with rain. It appeared that Manhattan didn't care that summer was just around the corner; it just wanted to make life harder for everyone that walked the bleak streets to go to their even-bleaker jobs. Usually, Harper didn't let it get her down, but today was different.

Last night had been no short of a disaster. Old feelings had been ripped open like a wound and it was ten times more painful than any time Harper had been shot or hurt by some supernatural creature. This was what real pain was; it was the kind that no amount of stitches or ibuprofen could ever fix. She was stuck like this; stuck in a constant state of loss and regret.

Calum had nothing to do with it. As far as Harper was concerned, he could literally jump in front of a bus and she wouldn't shed a tear. It sounded harsh, but it was true. The fact that she had wasted four valuable months with him when she could of been doing anything else filled her with so much rage. Calum knew he was going to hurt her in the end; he'd never truly cared about her or had good intentions.

Harper was stuck in love with Stiles Stilinski. The lanky sixteen-year-old boy had captured her heart nine years ago, and he hadn't given it back since, not even for a second. Any new friends she met told her it was strange for her to be so 'obsessed' with a high school boyfriend, but they didn't get it. They'd been together for six years; they'd been fucking engaged. Stiles was her person.

"It's been three years," the brunette rolled her eyes at herself, her voice barely a whisper in the morning air. "Get over him, Harper."

Why did he never call me again after we broke up?

Why did you never call him?

The same questions that had been rolling through her brain for years now came flooding back and Harper had enough. She forced herself to rip the covers off of her body and she stumbled out of the bed, instantly missing the warmth of her duvet and the comfort of her pillow. Wandering into her bathroom, she switched the light on and stared at herself in the mirror.

Her hair rested above her shoulders. Not because she liked it that way, but because she thought she looked more grown-up like that. The weight she'd lost wasn't because she needed or wanted to, it was because she overworked herself to the point where she forgot to eat. Harper hadn't picked up a paintbrush since switching to a psychology degree in college. She hadn't danced along to a The Neighbourhood song since she shared that shitty apartment with Stiles in California.

He was right when she said that she had changed the night they broke up, but it was what she thought she needed. No company would take her seriously if she smiled too much or if she liked her hair long and in messy beach waves. She stared at herself now. She was still trying to be someone she wasn't.

I mean, look at her apartment. All shades of cream and white with dashes of black here and there. No pictures were hung up, she didn't even have her own artwork anywhere. This wasn't her. None of this was her.

"I need to get out of here," Harper blurted, her mouth working ahead of her brain.

Stop thinking irrationally. Think about your future.

All of a sudden, her phone began to ring from her bag which rested on the edge of the marble sink. Harper immediately snapped out of focusing on the thoughts battling inside her head and she grabbed it.

Lydia was FaceTiming her.

Harper adjusted her hair before answering, smiling at the woman on the other side. Lydia Martin had aged beautifully, sporting bright red lipstick and minimal face makeup.

"Harps!" The Banshee greeted, panning the camera slightly to the left of her where Allison sat waving. "We're so excited that you're coming home for Ally and Scott's wedding."

Harper smiled softly at the two women. "I'm excited too."

"So!" Allison snatched the camera from Lydia and switched it around so Harper could see books on the table. "We're going through bridesmaid dresses and I want to pick something that I know you, Lydia, and Malia will all like."

"Malia's there?" Harper asked.

"Yeah! She's in the bathroom," the Argent woman replied absentmindedly, "anyway. I'm thinking a soft pink kind of colour, but I was wondering how you feel about off the shoulder dresses?"

Lydia gasped, "Oh my god, you need to see it. It would suit you so much, Harper."

Harper couldn't even focus on the question she'd been asked; she was too busy thinking about how all of her best friends were at home right now and she was stuck on the other side of the country, definitely not living her best life as she had hoped.

"Harper?" Lydia sang, clicking her fingers. "Is your connection bad?"

"No, no, no, sorry," Harper apologised with a small chuckle, "I was just thinking, that's all. Off the shoulder sounds great, Allison."

Allison released a breath of relief. "Thank god! Malia and Lydia only managed to agree on something, like, fifty dresses later, so when they said they both liked this one I prayed you'd like it too."

Harper smiled back weakly, unsure of what to say. She couldn't even see the dress properly from where Allison was attempting to show it to her on camera, but she knew she would walk down the aisle in a bin bag if it made her friend happy.

Lydia pouted, "We miss you, Harper."

It seems that one sentence was enough to trigger the tears in Harper's eyes. She went silent for a few seconds and swallowed thickly, trying to stop her emotions from getting the best of her.

"I miss you guys too," her voice cracked, much to her dismay.

"Awh, Harps!" Allison cooed, "don't be sad! We'll be seeing you in a few weeks. You are still coming a week early, right?"

"Yeah," Harper wiped under her eyes, "the next few weeks are going to go so slowly, I can feel it. I just wanna be there with you guys right now."

"You've got money, girl. Hop and a plane and just do it," Lydia tried to persuade her, "take holiday leave at work or something. Just come see us, it's been way too long!"

Lydia's words stirred hope and happiness in Harper— something she hadn't really felt in a while. A bright smile took over her features the more and more she thought about seeing her family again.

"You know what?" She looked around her bathroom, despising how empty and boring it was. "Save a seat at your dinner table, Ally. I'll be there by seven."

...

Acting impulsively like this was going to come back to bite Harper in the ass and she knew it. Hopefully, going to Beacon Hills and spending some time with her friends would be just what she needed to move on and live happily in Manhattan, but deep down she knew that it wouldn't work like that. She knew as soon as she saw all of the people that she loved so much that she'd never want to leave again.

Perhaps she was unconsciously doing it on purpose.

Harper ignored her whirling mind. It hadn't shut up since she'd opened the invitation from Scott and Allison last night, and she wanted to curse the happy couple out but also thank them. Maybe they had snapped her out of a three-year-long slump that she wasn't even aware she was having until now.

She continued to shove items of clothing into her suitcase, some smart stuff but mostly casual dresses. The brunette mentally checked off everything she needed in her head, her eyes casting over to her MacBook which sat on her bed.

15:00 FLIGHT TO BEACON HILLS  
ON TRACK

"Toothbrush!" Harper gasped when she remembered, moving into her bathroom.

She plucked it out of its holder and into a travel case, alongside her toothpaste. Her skincare stuff was already in a bag at the bottom of her suitcase. Harper hummed absentmindedly as she wandered back into her bedroom, freezing when she saw somebody stood by her suitcase.

"You're leaving?" Calum glanced up from it, wearing a blank expression.

"What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?" Harper's face scrunched up horror. "I thought I made it very clear last night that we're not together anymore, Calum."

The dark-haired man closed his eyes as if her words had physically wounded him. He stayed like that for an awkward amount of time, making Harper nervous. Was this man mentally unhinged?

"I have a key, remember?" He lifted it up to show her, "and I needed to talk to you."

"I don't have anything to talk to you about," she walked straight past him and to her suitcase, shoving her toothbrush inside. "I think you need to return the key and get out before I call the police."

"Listen, Harper," Calum pleaded with her, "what happened last night... that wasn't me. Please don't let one argument ruin our relationship. Not when I love you so much."

Nobody had declared their love for her romantically since Stiles. Perhaps if she was a little weaker then she would have given in, but Harper had been through years and years of emotional hurt and she was stronger than she was when she was a teenager.

The words sounded disgusting coming from his lips anyway. She hated the way his lips curved to say her name. She hated him.

"I think maybe your idea and my idea of love are a little different," Harper told him slowly, a vicious glint behind her coffee-coloured eyes.

"Come on, Harps. Don't be like that. Couples argue all the time. You and your ex—"

"Stiles never laid a finger on me ," Harper shook her head, "and don't call me 'Harps'."

"Harper-"

"Calum!" She yelled, finally reaching her boiling point with the man in front of her. "This is it. We. Are. Over. End of."

Why did he have to be so difficult about this?

"Fine," his jaw clenched and he slammed the key down on her dresser so hard she worried he might of dented the white paint. "You'll regret this, Harper."

Calum turned on his heel and started to leave, Harper following to make sure he actually left her apartment. As soon as he'd slammed the front door behind him she quickly reached forward and locked it, releasing a breath of relief.

"Psychopathic asshole," she muttered under her breath and went back to packing her suitcase.

Her flight was in a couple of hours and nobody would stop her from getting on that plane. 

...

"Elevator's broken, dude  
"Elevator's broken, dude."

Stiles groaned out loud, his slender finger pausing from where it had been repeatedly pushing the button on the wall for the past minute. His other hand clenched the handle of his suitcase, dread settling in his stomach.

He was going to have to lug this thing down seven flights of stairs.

His neighbour sent him a sympathetic smile. "How do you think I feel? Just walked up the whole way."

Stiles shot the man a small smile and a nod, not particularly wanting to converse with his neighbour who was far too nosy for his own good. However, he watched as the man's eyes drifted to his bags and he mentally facepalmed.

"Going anywhere nice?"

"Home," Stiles shrugged, "back in California."

"Nice one."

Stiles picked up his duffel bag and threw it over his shoulder, heading towards the staircase. He paid too much rent for this kind of shit to happen. They could have at least put a sign up or something.

Seven flights of stairs later, Stiles was thanking god that being an FBI Agent had improved his athleticism and stamina. He wandered out into the car park, squinting slightly at the rays of sunshine that poured over him.

The Stilinski man opened the boot of the jeep and threw his suitcase inside, perhaps a little too roughly. He winced when he heard something clatter unpleasantly, praying it wasn't anything too important.

He slammed the boot back down and climbed into the front, grabbing his keys out of his pocket and moving to put them in the ignition. Still, after seven years, he had the bright green bottle opener attached and a collection of keys ranging from the animal clinic to the sheriff's station beside it.

The jeep had had a lot of work done to it. A couple of years ago it broke down and the guy at the garage told him that it would be best for him to just get rid of the 'cheap scrap of metal'. Stiles refused, and even if it had cost him a huge chunk of his paycheck, he'd gotten it fixed.

Before Stiles had the chance to pull out of the parking space, his eyes caught sight of the edge of a Polaroid tucked in the sun visor on the passenger side. He paused his movements, knowing exactly what it was.

"Of course now," he whispered to himself, rolling his hazel eyes as he reached across and tugged it out.

There was no denying that it was old; the previously white edges had turned an off-white colour, and the back of it was starting to peel away. Her handwriting was starting to fade, perhaps symbolic of their current situation. Stiles smoothed the gathering dust off of it with his thumb, his lips pursing at the picture.

Stiles didn't know how to think 

Stiles didn't know how to think. As he stared at the two teenagers in the photograph, he grew jealous of how happy and blissfully unaware they were of their future. Harper had given him the photograph randomly one evening while they'd been studying in her room, and he'd kissed her after, swearing he'd keep it forever.

He'd kept that promise.

Had she kept her promise of loving him forever?

He hated his mind for thinking like that. Most likely, Harper had a boyfriend in Manhattan that she loved so much she'd forgotten all about Stiles. Maybe she had kids, or she wanted kids with the new guy.

The thought made Stiles' knuckles whiten from where they clenched the Polaroid. Even after all this time, he couldn't get used to the thought of somebody else touching Harper like he did, or treasuring Harper like he had.

Eventually, after burning holes into the two teenagers in front of him, Stiles reached up and carefully tucked the prized possession back into the sun visor, where it belonged. He hadn't scrolled through any pictures of them in a couple of months, and now her face seemed fresh in his brain again— not that he could ever forget hers. He'd spent too many years staring into those brown eyes.

But he hadn't seen her face in three years. Did she still keep her hair short like the last time Stiles saw her? Maybe she wore more makeup now, or she'd had a complete wardrobe change and only wore black. Did she look much older?

A text from Scott caused his phone to flash from the passenger seat and Stiles snapped out of his reminiscing of past lovers.

Scott:  
See ya soon!

Stiles grinned, chuckling as he ran his hand over his chin. He was excited to see his best friend again, it had been too long.

...

Allison rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand as she stared at the screen in front of her  
Allison rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand as she stared at the screen in front of her. A text from Harper had notified her that the Empath had just reached the airport, causing a smile to cross her face.

She jumped from where she'd been sat at her desk, doing a small jog down the stairs and towards the living room where she could hear the television playing. Scott sat in the corner of one of the couches, half asleep while he tried to concentrate on the horror film.

"What's got you so happy?" The werewolf asked with a tired grin, peeling his eyes off of the screen.

"I have a surprise," Allison told him.

"Oh really?" He sat up straighter on the couch. "Don't make me guess. You know how bad I am at guessing."

"Harper's on her way to Beacon Hills!"

Scott froze, his eyes widening. "Oh no."

Allison's face scrunched up. "What do you mean 'oh no'? I thought you two were fine the last time you spoke."

"No, we are, we are," Scott insisted, "it's just... Stiles is on his way home too."

Her face dropped. "Oh shit."

"They're not gonna like this."


	3. Chapter 3

𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒, 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀

Harper vividly remembered the first time she landed in Beacon Hills. Sat between her mother and her father, the nine-year-old girl had desperately tried to peer over her mother's lap to see outside the window of the plane. She recalled seeing the preserve from where they were starting to land, and all of the little houses below.

The smallest things never ceased to amaze Harper Verum. For example, the fact that she had no idea as a young girl that she was looking down on her new home, and that her best friends were all there in those houses. Or that preserve that was waiting for her to go and explore it seven years later with the two boys that she loved more than anything.

"Mummy, when are we going home?" Harper whispered, tugging on the sleeve of Monica Verum's jumper in an attempt to capture her attention.

Monica laughed quietly, "this is our new home, darling. One of those houses- down there."

"What about my friends?" She wondered, peeling her eyes from the window and back towards her mother.

"You'll make new friends, Harper. Don't you worry about that."

Her father glanced over from where his head was shoved in a book. "You'll just have to grin and bear it."

Her mother was right, as always. Less than a week later, when Harper attended Beacon Hills Elementary School, she met Scott and Stiles for the first time. Lydia came a few years later when Harper was eleven, and she met Allison five years after that- when she was sixteen. Next came Isaac, and then Malia, then Liam.

Point was, Harper had too many memories here. Even if so many horror stories had taken place on top of the grounds of Beacon Hills, many to Harper herself, she would never in a billion years want to take it back. She'd fallen in love here, she'd graduated high school here, she'd made life-long friends here.

"Harper!"

Speaking of life-long friends...

No matter how much time they spent apart, Lydia Martin and Harper Verum would always be inseparable in the bigger picture. The woman had stuck by Harper through every decision she'd ever made, through their teenage years and now their adult life, and Harper never failed to love Lydia unconditionally.

The strawberry blonde ran towards her now, a grin on her bright red lips as her hair flailed around behind her. Harper pulled the sunglasses off of the edge of her nose and ditched her suitcase, running to meet Lydia halfway like something out of some cheesy romantic comedy film.

As soon as their bodies had collided, Harper was grabbing onto Lydia's sweater and trying to pull her as close as humanly possible. Lydia kept muttering things under her breath, something about her being happy Harper was here, while the brunette invited the scent of warm vanilla up her nose, practically nuzzling her face into Lydia's neck.

"I missed you so much," Harper's voice came out muffled, and she felt Lydia's grip on her only tighten.

She glanced up from the Banshee's shoulder, her brown eyes melting at the sight of Allison and Malia both stood there. The tall brunettes were both smiling at her in amazement, and Harper quickly did 'grabby hands' at them, pleading for them to join in.

Malia moved first, quickly wrapping her arms around both Harper and Lydia before Allison was giggling and following along. The four women held each other for a moment outside the airport, allowing the Californian sun to beat down and warm them up. Harper was still having trouble comprehending the fact that she was really here.

"This reminds me of that summer when you went to London and Lydia and I picked you up after," Allison chuckled when they were all pulling away.

"Let's hope we don't get a deer come jumping through our windshield on the way home, then," Lydia rolled her eyes.

Malia pouted at them all. "You had a deer run towards you? Lucky. I always had to chase them so far."

Harper tried to keep a straight face but she burst into laughter, shaking her head at the woman that she had missed so much. She jumped up and wrapped her arms around Malia's neck, pulling her into a tight hug. Malia immediately hugged back, pursing her lips into a pleased smile. Even after all this time, she still loved to make Harper proud or laugh, but maybe that was because the Empath had taught her most of the stuff she knew.

"I love you so much, Mal," Harper shook her head as she pulled away. "You haven't changed a bit."

"Thanks, I guess? I love you too."

"Where are you staying, Harper?" Allison questioned as the four friends started to head towards Lydia's car, Harper trailing her suitcase along behind them.

"Harper's staying with me," Lydia spoke immediately before turning to the girl. "I have this cute apartment for up to a week after the wedding, and there's a gym downstairs that has a pool. It will be great, Harps."

The brunette beamed, "sounds amazing, Lyds."

She carefully placed her suitcase in the back and tossed her duffel bag on top before heading to the passenger side and climbing into the seat, buckling up. Lydia pulled out of the parking spot and started to drive away from the airport, rolling the windows down so that the wind could brush through the hair.

"How's New York?" Allison asked.

"It's great," she lied, thanking the world that she was the Empath and not her friends. "You guys need to come over sometime all together. I'll take you to all my favourite spots."

"Oh my gosh, yes," Lydia gasped, her green eyes widening. "That needs to happen."

Malia shrugged, "New York sounds good. I need to see your apartment, too. Lydia says it's cool."

"Oh, it's more than 'cool'," Lydia scoffed, "it's stunning."

Harper chuckled softly, "thanks, Lyds."

"What about Calum?" The strawberry blonde peeled her eyes from the road to wiggle her brows at Harper for a second. "He's so hot."

Allison appeared to be glancing at Harper expectantly, making the woman shoot her a strange look and laugh awkwardly. The former huntress was eager to find out Harper's response, and she could tell, but she didn't know why.

"I dumped Calum yesterday, actually," she replied casually, "he might be 'hot', but he's an asshole."

Lydia shuddered, "ugh, gross. And to think I actually liked him for you."

Allison allowed a small smile to cross her features as she glanced out of the window of the car. Secretly, she was glad that Harper was single. Stiles was single too, so maybe this month could be a second chance for the past lovers. Besides, if Harper had turned up with Calum or flew him over for her date to the wedding, then Allison was sure it wasn't going to be pretty.

"Yeah, well, past's in the past," Harper tried to change the subject, "I'm more focused on the fact that Scott McCall somehow managed to convince a girl like Allison to marry him."

Allison laughed from the backseat, shaking her head at Harper. "I'm way too excited to be marrying him."

Harper maintained the strained smile as her friends started to talk about how much they were looking forward to the big day, but a distant look was in her dark eyes. If things had gone right for her, then she and Stiles would have already had their wedding day and they'd probably have settled down into some nice house in Beacon Hills, maybe a kid on the way.

However, things had not gone right, and here she was, single and about to watch two of her best friends get married.

She'd just have to grin and bear it.

𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒, 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀  
𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒, 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀

Stiles could tell Scott was nervous, he didn't have to be a werewolf or an Empath to work it out. Even if Scott was trying to conceal his obvious anxiety, Stiles had been his best friend for twenty years now, and he knew exactly when something was wrong. He dreaded to ask since he knew Scott clearly didn't want to tell him.

"Dude, I've been here ten minutes and you already look like you'd rather be anywhere else but here," the Stilinski man joked, running a hand through his dark hair and shaking his head so that it fell messily back into place.

Scott shook his head quickly-- too quickly. "It's nothing."

"It's something."

"Okay, okay. So there is something," the dark-eyed boy tried to stall as he grabbed a beer from the fridge and handed it to his guest.

He watched as Stiles grabbed his keys from his pocket, using the bright green bottle opener to wedge the cap off. Scott tilted his drink towards the man and Stiles did the same for him with a small nod.

"Just tell me," Stiles rolled his eyes, "we both know how this works. We try to keep a secret from one another, the other finds out sooner or later, and the later the worse."

Scott grew silent, knowing that his friend was right. They knew how each other worked like the back of their own hands, which could be a good thing... but also a bad thing.

Stiles took a swig of his drink before his tongue darted out to swipe any remaining beer on his lips, an expectant look behind his whiskey eyes.

"Tell me," he whined again, and Scott almost smiled at the immature tone. "Come on, Scott."

"Don't freak out."

Stiles rolled his eyes, "great."

"I swear when I asked you to come back early that I didn't know this was going to happen," Scott promised, and Stiles knew he was being honest. "Allison only told me earlier today when it was too late."

"What happened?"

"It's Harper... she may or may not be in Beacon Hills."

Everything went silent and Scott waited anxiously for Stiles' reaction.

Stiles blinked, his eyes swimming with an emotion Scott couldn't detect. His face barely moved an inch, but Scott could hear as Stiles' heartbeat clearly picked up, and he noticed the way his hand gripped the beer bottle slightly tighter than before.

Meanwhile, the poor man was in a state of shock. Stiles thought he had another month to prepare himself for Harper coming back to Beacon Hills, but now he had days- maybe even hours. His heart ached at the thought of seeing her. He missed her so fucking much.

"Are you okay?" Scott whispered, reaching his hand out and holding Stiles' arm.

Stiles nodded slowly, "I... I'm just in shock."

More silence filled the room and Scott felt like he was drowning in awkwardness. He wished he could know what Stiles was thinking; the man seemed too wrapped up in his own thoughts. Most likely thoughts of Harper.

"I haven't seen her yet," Scott admitted quietly, not sure if Stiles wanted to know or not. "Allison went with Lydia and Malia to pick her up from the airport a couple of hours ago."

"You're still in contact with her, right?" Stiles felt like he couldn't even say her name, his throat feeling slightly dry.

He took a long swig of his beer, trying to seem like the topic of their other best friend hadn't just stopped his heart from functioning properly.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course."

"Is she... is she okay?"

"She seems like it," Scott told him softly, "Harper never really talks much about herself, she likes to hear what everyone else is up to."

Stiles couldn't help but feel frustrated at the lack of information, but at the same time, he was thankful. Part of him didn't want to know in case he got hurt, but the bigger part of him wanted to know everything. Stiles Stilinski was curious by nature, and he still loved this girl- whether they were together or not.

"Sounds like Harper," Stiles whispered, his eyes awkwardly casting to the ground.

Her name rolling off of his tongue felt so foreign yet so familiar. He hadn't said it in god knows how long, he just felt like he couldn't- or shouldn't. However, if he was going to be seeing her soon then he had to get over it. Stiles mentally cursed the fact that they had the same group of friends but also felt thankful. If they didn't, maybe he would have never seen her again.

"Can I use your bathroom?" Stiles asked, and Scott scoffed.

"Dude, you never asked at my mom's place," he laughed.

"Yeah, yeah..." The hint of a sad smile crossed his features. "It's just been a while."

Scott smiled sadly too, "it has, hasn't it?"

...

"Scott!" Allison laughed as she pushed through the front door, almost tripping over her own feet. "Scott, babe! Where are you?"

Her words came out slurred and Stiles immediately knew that she was wasted. He'd only witnessed the Argent woman drunk at a Christmas party when they were all twenty-two, but he remembered that she could definitely not handle her alcohol. Scott groaned from beside him, lifting himself from the couch.

"Let me go help her," Scott muttered to his friend before leaving the living room to assist his slightly-more-than-tipsy fiance.

His dark eyes widened at the sight of Harper stood beside Allison, the shorter brunette trying not to choke on her own breath as she laughed at something that had happened long before they'd entered the house. The two of them reeked of alcohol and their hair was slightly tangled, no doubt from hours of partying with Malia and Lydia.

Between breaths, Harper glanced up, her jaw dropping when she saw the McCall man stood in the doorway looking like he'd seen a ghost. She stumbled over to him and threw her arms around his body, her cheek on his shoulder as he held her, rubbing his hand on her back.

"Scotty," the Empath whined, "I miss-" she hiccuped, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Harps," Scott told her quickly, "maybe we should get you back to Lydia, yeah?"

Allison rolled her eyes at him, "she came to see you, Scott."

"Yeah, Scott..." Harper repeated, and Scott realised then and there that Harper was extremely out of it.

He started to panic. He couldn't let Harper and Stiles see each other like this; not when Harper was literally out of her mind and blurting things she would probably forget in the morning.

Scott wondered what the hell Allison was thinking, his brown eyes casting towards her when he saw her stumble backwards onto the stairs, giggling.

Oh, that's right, she wasn't thinking.

"Let's take a walk," Scott glanced over his shoulder at the living room, hoping Stiles wouldn't come wandering out to see what all of the commotion was about.

He grabbed his jacket off of the bannister and threw it over his shoulders before either woman could protest, his large hand gently wrapping around Harper's arm and starting to pull her towards the door. Scott began to feel relieved that his plan was going to work, Harper's body half out of the door when-

"Scott?"

Stiles' voice was right behind him, making him freeze. Harper stopped squirming in Scott's grip and he heard her heart stop for a split second. He mentally groaned. This could not be happening, not right now.

Scott turned, revealing Harper to Stiles.

Through her hazy vision, the brunette stared up at the man in confusion. This man looked exactly like her old lover, but it couldn't be him. His hair was longer and shaggier, and he had this scruff around his chin that Stiles would have never grown out. His shoulders were broader than Stiles' and he seemed more muscular.

This man was staring at her with his lips parted in shock, his hazel eyes starting to gloss over with what she assumed were tears. He seemed to stutter on his words for a second, unsure of what to say to her. Everything seemed to clear up for a second in her drunken mind, and she knew that this was Stiles.

This was her Stiles now.

Meanwhile, Stiles couldn't believe his eyes. If he hadn't been in Beacon Hills, he would have sworn that this was yet another one of those twisted, pathetic dreams he had on at least a monthly basis where Harper was actually with him.

Her dark hair was still shoulder length and straightened to perfection and she wore a tiny black dress, her short legs looking much longer than usual in the heels she'd put on. Her lipstick was smudged slightly from what he hoped was a night full of drinking and not kissing strangers, and she didn't smell like perfume, she smelt like cocktails.

It felt like they were staring at each other forever. Allison's giggling had ceased from the stairs, her eyes wide when she realised that she had messed up. Scott had facepalmed, praying that Harper didn't say anything that she would regret once she sobered up in the morning.

This was definitely not how Scott expected the 'terrific trio' to all reunite.

"Harper, maybe I should get you to Lydia now," Scott broke the silence, trying to send a look to Stiles- but his eyes had yet to peel from Harper's.

They were still in love, this confirmed it. Stiles had spent so many nights over the past three years planning what he would say to Harper if he ever ran into her again, yet now, as she stood in front of him looking like if perfection was a person, he had no idea what to say. His brain wasn't even working.

"You..." Harper muttered, blinking slowly at him.

Stiles' heart pounded, waiting anxiously for what she had to say to him. Scott chewed his bottom lip, his brows furrowed. He was ready to grab her and pull her from the house if she said anything bad.

"You... long hair," she finally slurred, standing on her tippy toes as she attempted to reach up and touch it.

Stiles didn't move as Scott gently grabbed Harper before she could, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her away from him. He started to guide her back towards the door, sending the Stilinski man an apologetic look.

"C'mon, Harps. You're wasted," he grabbed his keys from the hook on the wall and turned to Allison. "Sober up. I'll be right back as soon as I've taken Harper to Lydia's."

As soon as the door closed behind him, Stiles felt the tears in his eyes start to spill and he released a shaky breath, quickly wiping them away with the back of his hand. Allison stared at him sympathetically and stumbled to her feet from where she had been sat on the staircase.

"I'm not dreaming, right?" He cried softly as Allison brought him into a hug. "That was Harper, wasn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Stiles," Allison murmured, "I forgot you'd be here."

Stiles didn't reply. He hadn't cried in such a long time, but this felt justifiable. It's been three years, but finally, he'd seen the love of his life again.

Stiles Stilinski had missed Harper Verum so much, and as long as she still loved him too, he hoped they could work something out. Now that he'd seen her, he knew he couldn't go long without her again. In fact, he missed her even more now.

But maybe this was a step in the right direction for them.

....


	4. Chapter 4

Scott pushed open the door to the apartment that Lydia and Harper were temporarily renting, a grunt falling from his lips as he tried to get Harper's body through the door without hitting her head on the frame. The brunette had refused to walk only three minutes into their trip back to the apartment, so the werewolf was forced to carry her.

Her eyes were closed and her breathing was steady, but he wasn't sure if she was actually asleep. He studied her face as he led her into one of the bedrooms, settling her onto the mattress as carefully as he could. Her dark hair sprawled out across the pillow and her face scrunched up slightly, her dainty hand reaching out and grabbing Scott's fingers before he could leave.

"Scotty, I saw him," she whimpered, and the brown-eyed-man felt his heart shatter. "I think I just saw Stiles again."

The whole walk over, Scott had just assumed that Harper had been too drunk to process the situation, but she'd been more aware than he thought- and a whole lot sadder, too. Tears strolled down her cheeks and hit her pillow as she sniffled, small sobs escaping her lips.

"He's gone again," she cried, "where is he, Scott?"

"Hey," Scott snapped out of his deep thinking, a soft frown on his face as he quickly brushed her hair out of her face, hushing her. "Hey. It's okay, Harper. Stiles is at my house and he's fine. He's not gone."

"What if that was it?" She started to panic more, much to Scott's dismay. "What if we don't see each other for another three years again? What if I never see him again!?"

The McCall man sat himself down on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arm around Harper's shoulders, pulling her close so that she was resting on him, her hot tears trickling onto his shirt now. He gently hushed her, his hands stroking her hair to soothe her frantic mind.

"Harper, you're still drunk. You need to calm down," Scott wiped some of her tears away, staring at his sister with sympathetic eyes. "Stiles will still be here in the morning, and I'm sure he wants to see you too. He misses you."

"He said that?" Her brown eyes shone with so much hope that it reminded Scott of when she was a teenager and how she could get him or Stiles to do anything with that look.

"What about his girlfriend?" She grumbled.

"Girlfriend?" Scott repeated with an incredulous laugh. "Stiles doesn't have a girlfriend, Harper."

"Mhm, with the golden retriever and shit," she slurred with a yawn, and he could tell that she was going to pass out any minute now.

Scott chuckled, shaking his head as he continued to stroke her hair. "Stiles doesn't have a girlfriend and he doesn't have a dog, Harps. He's only ever loved you."

A small smile crossed Harper's lips, her eyes finally flickering shut as she snuggled against her pillow, her mind starting to rest at the thought.

"I only love him too."

"Stiles, please calm down

"Stiles, please calm down."

The man ignored Allison, his jaw clenched as he threw his suitcase into the back of his jeep. He moved straight past her, shrugging her hands off of his arms from where she tried to grab him. He marched back into Scott's house and grabbed his duffel bag, throwing it over his shoulder.

"Stiles, just listen to me!" Allison pleaded again.

He refused, avoiding eye contact with the slightly shorter woman and throwing his bag on top of his suitcase. As he slammed the boot of the jeep, he heard a familiar voice call his name and he groaned, rolling his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" Scott jogged over, grabbing Stiles arm that was holding the keys to his car. "Don't tell me you're leaving."

"I can't stay here," Stiles shook his head, trying to get past his best friend who simply moved to stand in the way. "Scott, move."

"No," the werewolf replied firmly, flashing his red eyes. "Go get your bags back out of the jeep."

"Don't make me tell you again," Stiles' voice grew threateningly low, and Scott had never heard him talk like this before. "Just move out of the way."

Scott stood his ground. "Give me a good enough reason."

"This whole thing was a mistake, okay? I should have never come back to this fucking town!"

"Why? You were happy an hour ago! It's because of Harper, isn't it?"

Stiles' face moved so it was only inches away, his teeth gritted and his hazel eyes burning. "I can't be near her without feeling sick, Scott. It makes my heart ache. It would be easier for both of us if I just go."

Scott scoffed, "oh, did you ask Harper before you thought she'd appreciate you leaving Beacon Hills? Or did you just assume that's what she would want? 'Cause I was just with her and she wouldn't fall asleep until I assured her you wouldn't leave!"

He paused in his tracks. The furious expression contorted onto his face melted away, his lips trembling slightly as he tried to work out what his next words should be. Stiles blinked, avoiding all eye contact with Scott. It felt like his whole body was on fire, his heart growing warmer at the news he'd just been delivered.

"She said that?" He mumbled.

Scott chuckled dryly at the irony. "The two of you sound just like each other. Maybe you should go and talk to her in the morning when she's sobered up."

Stiles seemed to remember what he had been doing before and snapped out of his dazed state. He clenched the keys in his palm harder, the metal creating a clattering sound that filled the night air.

"No," he spoke softly, shaking his head. "Harper wouldn't-"

"You don't know what Harper wants," Scott corrected him in a hushed tone, trying not to grow angry with his best friend. "You haven't spoken to her in three years, how would you know?"

Silence eased its way into their conversation and hazel eyes were being cast to the floor once again. Scott could sense his guilt and grabbed his arm as a reassuring gesture.

"She didn't talk to me either," Stiles mumbled, hurt.

"I know," Scott sighed and took Stiles into a hug, pursing his lips when he felt Stiles' strong arms wrap around him too, pulling him even closer. "I know, buddy."

"I totally embarrassed myself last night," Harper groaned, one hand resting on her forehead and the other wrapped around the mug of coffee in front of her

"I totally embarrassed myself last night," Harper groaned, one hand resting on her forehead and the other wrapped around the mug of coffee in front of her. "Like, completely. I'm never recovering from that."

The brunette wasn't looking too good, sporting her usual hangover attire of black, baggy clothing. It made her skin look much paler than usual, her face void of all makeup and revealing the dark circles beneath her honey eyes.

She raised the mug to her lips and took a sip of the scalding drink, sighing in relief as her body seemed to heat up for a minute. Her head was pounding and she had only stopped throwing up a couple of hours ago.

Now, she found herself in a quaint coffee shop on the edge of the town sat opposite Malia and Lydia, Allison right by her side. All four women had drunk a lot last night, but Malia had her super healing, Lydia wasn't a lightweight and Allison never seemed to get bad hangovers like Harper did.

"It wasn't that bad," Allison tried to reassure her, holding her hand out and rubbing Harper's back. "You didn't embarrass yourself, Harps."

"I did," she muttered sourly, rolling her eyes. "I bet Stiles thinks I'm some sort of mess now or something."

Malia's brows furrowed. "Why do you care what Stiles thinks?"

Harper paused, wishing the werecoyote hadn't answered that question. "Would you want Isaac thinking that you're a mess?" She retorted.

"Isaac and I are just friends now," Malia shrugged simply, "I don't care what he thinks."

The Empath released a loud groan and dropped her chin onto her hands, attracting the attention of a few nearby customers. She wasn't ready to admit what the women wanted to hear out loud yet, and Lydia seemed to understand this, sending Malia a warning glance.

Lydia sighed and reached forward, grasping Harper's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "He knows you're not a mess, Harper. Scott said he asked about you, and Scott told him how great you're doing."

Her heart skipped a beat over the fact that Stiles had asked about her. She managed to convince herself that it was just the Stilinski man being as curious as always and shook the thoughts from her brain, trying not to distract herself.

"Anyway," Harper huffed, "enough about me and my fail of a welcome home party, let's talk bridesmaids dresses."

Allison released a high pitched squeal at the change of topic making Malia immediately wince and lean backwards. The Argent woman bent down to grab her bag from the floor and picked it up, grabbing books thicker than Harper's head out and slamming them down onto the table.

Colourful sticky notes poked out from the tops of the pages and Harper watched with a small smile as Allison found one of the orange ones towards the back. She opened the book and turned it at an angle so all three girls could see the dresses clearly.

"So, these were the dresses that I was thinking that Malia and Lydia both agreed looked good," Allison pointed at them. "What do you think, Harps?"

Harper stared at the slender model who was sporting a long, blush-coloured dress, elegant flower details rising from the bottom and an off-the-shoulder neckline that complimented it well. She couldn't deny that the dresses weren't stunning, her finger running over the picture as a small smile crept across her face.

"They're beautiful, Ally," she spoke, making Lydia squeal.

"And they'll compliment my pale skin and your tan skin," the strawberry blonde insisted, "it's a win-win."

The four women rambled on and on about the dresses for the next half an hour until, eventually, they decided to head back to Lydia and Harper's apartment.

Harper climbed into the front seat beside Malia, pushing her keys into the ignition and feeling the car rumble to life beneath her. She rolled down the windows, enjoying driving through the town with the rays of sunshine pouring down onto her skin. It was such a welcoming contrast to the streets of Manhattan.

"I missed this weather," Harper admitted, drumming her fingers on the wheel as they waited in the traffic. "When I left Manhattan it was pouring down with rain."

Lydia frowned, "that's why I stuck to Cali. I cannot handle the rain."

Harper managed a small laugh, shaking her head. "Sometimes it's not too bad."  
"I don't mind the rain," Malia shrugged, "Paris gets a lot of it in the winter."

"Look at all of us," Allison grinned proudly as the car started to slowly move again, following the rows of cars in front of it. "Being all adult-y and stuff. I thought we'd all stay in Beacon Hills forever."

"Me too," Harper admitted, "I've loved this place ever since I moved here when I was, like, nine."

"Beacon Hills needs therapists," Allison shrugged innocently.

"Lots of them, too," Malia scoffed.

Lydia laughed loudly, "as if she'd leave New York for this town."

Harper remained silent, her lips pursed into a straight line. Both girls seemed to represent the two sides of her mind, but she tried not to think too hard about it. It made her stressed, and stress gave her migraines- and she did not like those. Manhattan was her home now, not Beacon Hills.

Suddenly, a moth landed on the windshield of the car, making both Harper and Malia frown from the front seats. Harper flicked on the wipers and watched as it hit the moth and threw it away.

"What the hell is a moth doing during the day?" Malia scoffed, shaking her head.

"I don't know," Harper cringed, "all I know is those things are bloody gross and I do not want them touching me."

She pulled into the parking lot of the building and turned off the vehicle, all four women unbuckling their seatbelts and starting to climb out.

As Harper slammed the car door behind her, she failed to notice the moths flying out of her air conditioning vent and starting to make homes in her seats and on her windows, covering everything until it was black.

...

Night fell hours later, a blanket of darkness being thrown over the town of Beacon Hills patterned by stars. Harper yawned quietly, running her hands through her short hair as she glanced at herself in the mirror hung in the hallway. The television played from in the living room as well as Lydia's small chuckles anytime something funny happened.

"I'm gonna run to the store, Lyds," Harper called, faintly hearing the strawberry blonde call back a muffled response. "Want anything?"

"No thanks!"

She slipped her shoes on and grabbed her bag, flinging it over her shoulder and heading to the elevator where she rode to the ground floor. It instantly grew colder as the metal doors opened and she stepped outside, moving to the exit and into the night air.

Harper hugged her arms, rubbing them at an attempt for some warmth. She glanced around the empty lot, a hesitant look on her face as she started to approach her car.

It felt like somebody was watching her, but she managed to convince herself that it was most likely her being paranoid since a lot of creepy stuff had happened in this town.

Nothing has happened in Beacon Hills in seven years, she reminded herself.

Pulling the keys out of her bag, she clicked the button to unlock the door and pulled the handle. Her heart dropped when it flung open, thousands and thousands of moths spilling from her car and flying past her. A deafening scream escaped her lips, her hands flying to the sides of her head in disbelief.

Some of them touched her or brushed her skin as they moved past, making Harper drop lower and swipe her hands at her hair, desperately trying to get them off of her. She didn't stop screaming until they were all gone, small pants escaping her lips and her eyes teary from shock as she glanced back up, finding her car now empty.

She slammed the door shut, refusing to climb inside the death trap. Before she could turn around and run back into the apartment, she heard a pair of feet jogging towards her and gasped when Lydia's hands were grabbing her arms.

"What the hell was that?" Lydia's green eyes were wide and frantic. "You sounded like you were dying, Harper!"

"There- there was," Harper stammered, pointing back to the car. "There were moths."

"Moths?" Lydia repeated back in disbelief, "you screamed over moths?"

She realised how absurd it sounded when the Banshee put it like that. Harper had endured years of battling supernatural creatures, she'd been experimented on, held at gunpoint, almost died several times, and here she was screaming over bugs.

"Thousands of them, Lydia," the brunette shook her head quickly, "in my car. They were- they were on me. Everywhere."

Lydia frowned softly, stroking Harper's arm. "Okay, that does sound weird."

"Do you think..." Harper swallowed, hating to say it. "Do you think something could be happening again?"

The strawberry blonde bit her lip. "I sure hope not."

...


	5. Chapter 5

Harper accepted the mug of hot chocolate from Lydia with a weak smile on her face, hugging the blanket wrapped around her closer to her body. She didn't know why the moths had shaken her up so badly, but she just had a really bad feeling about the whole thing.

Besides, it felt as if she could still fill the flaps of their wings or the scurrying of their legs on her face, touching her nose and her lips and flying into her hair.

"If there's anything else you need, let me know," Lydia told her reassuringly, giving the Empath's shoulder a short squeeze before moving into her bedroom to get changed for bed.

Harper stared at the television in front of her, raising the mug in her hands to her lips. She winced at the heat on her skin but took a few sips anyway, ignoring the way her tongue pleaded her not to. Grabbing the remote controller, Harper switched off the television and stood abruptly, heading over to her phone which was on one of the cabinets at the edge of the living room.

She picked up the device and scrolled through her list of contacts, finding a certain True Alpha's number. She sent it a quick text.

To Scott:  
Hey. Can we talk about something?

Not expecting a text for a while, Harper placed her phone back down but jumped when it buzzed five seconds later. She smiled slightly and picked it up, finding a text message from the McCall man himself.

Scott:  
Of course. Meet at Golden Phoenix in 30.

Harper frowned slightly at the text message, wondering why the hell Scott wanted to meet her in a Chinese restaurant of all places. She shrugged her shoulders, never being one to turn down Chinese food.

The brunette moved into her bedroom to attempt to make herself look a little more presentable, seeing as they were meeting in a public place.

In fifteen minutes, Harper managed to curl her short hair into waves and apply enough makeup for her to look healthy and not sleep-deprived, shrugging on a burgundy dress and some black boots. After that, she scribbled a note for Lydia and stuck it on her door in case she woke up and Harper still wasn't home.

The Empath took Lydia's car instead of her own, driving into town with the radio playing quietly in the background. She parked the car outside of the restaurant and moved to the door, greeting the waitress with a soft smile.

"Hi. I'm meeting a friend. He probably booked the table under McCall?" Harper spoke sweetly and the woman glanced at the logbook in her hands before nodding.

"Follow me, please."

Harper obeyed the petite woman, following behind and glancing around casually at all of the people enjoying their night. The aroma of food made Harper's stomach grumble slightly, her ears filled with laughter and the sounds of cutlery brushing against each other.

"Right there, ma'am."

The brunette's breath almost knocked out of her lungs when her eyes landed on Scott sat around a round table with Stiles Stilinski of all people.

She visibly winced and moved to duck out of the way to leave the place, but Scott had already looked up, his eyes brightening at the sight of her. A grin was on his face as he waved her over, making Stiles turn around to see who Scott was talking to.

"Fucking asshole," Harper muttered under her breath, knowing for a fact that Scott did this on purpose and that he would hear her with his supernatural hearing.

She forced a smile on her face and thanked the waitress before slowly heading over to the two men, clutching her bag a little tighter than before. Harper didn't miss the way that Stiles' eyes widened or the way he'd glared at Scott as she made her way over, trying to be casual about it but failing miserably.

"Harper," Scott stood to give her a side hug before sitting back down. "Sit, sit. We haven't ordered yet, you're lucky."

Harper tried not to appear awkward as she sank down into her chair, placing her bag on the floor by her feet. She had no idea what to do; did she greet Stiles or did she wait for him to greet her? What did she even say?

Hey Stiles, long time no see...

No!

"Hey," Stiles spoke first, taking Harper by complete surprise.

He could tell from her reaction that she was struggling to come up with the right words to say, and he was as well, especially in front of Scott.

As much as he loved the man sat at the table with them, it probably would have been so much easier for him to talk to Harper if Scott wasn't sat there grinning at the former couple like a madman.

"H-Hi," Harper smiled back, tucking some hair that had fallen behind her ear.

She was well aware of how Scott looked like he was going to burst from excitement and she had to refrain from rolling her eyes, her hands moving to clasp each other on her lap beneath the table.

Glancing between both men sat around her, she couldn't help but feel strange. They'd both grown up so much, their hair containing a lot less gel than it did in high school and their faces no longer clean-shaven. Both men had broad shoulders and their faces held a little less youth, especially Stiles'. Harper knew him well enough to know he wasn't genuinely happy anymore, and it broke her heart.

"Isn't this nostalgic?" Stiles attempted to break the silence, glancing between his two best friends from school  
"Isn't this nostalgic?" Stiles attempted to break the silence, glancing between his two best friends from school.

Scott chuckled wholeheartedly while Harper managed a small smile once again, not knowing quite what to reply to him with.

This was the last thing she'd been expecting to do tonight, maybe just after opening her car door to thousands and thousands of moths flying in her face. She wished she'd had some time to prepare the kinds of things she'd say to Stiles, although she wasn't sure what those words would be anyway.

This reminded her of her first day of elementary school, funnily enough. Some strange woman had shoved her in the direction of two boys and she'd been forced to sit with them, and while she was a a nervous wreck, like she was now, they'd been so excited— or at least Scott was the only excited one presently.

"The gang's back together again!" Scott grinned, grabbing both their shoulders and pulling them closer to him with a squeeze, earning forced, awkward laughter from them. "The three amigos."

"We never called ourselves that," Harper rolled her eyes playfully, trying to appear more casual than she felt on the inside- this was a massive deal for her.

She'd missed the friendship that the three of them had almost as much as she'd missed Stiles himself. When they'd broken up, not only had they lost each other, but they'd lost the trio that had been stuck together like glue since they were only nine-years-old. They suffered and Scott had to suffer too.

It had always been Scott, Harper, and Stiles; especially since that night in the woods. Harper didn't mean to blow her own trumpet, but if the three of them hadn't been such idiots back in sophomore year then a lot of things wouldn't have worked out how they had.

"Rose called us it," Stiles recalled with a small smile and Harper's eyes softened at the mention of her grandmother who'd been deceased for nearly ten years now. "And my mom a couple times."

"My mom called us 'the three assholes who never shut up when she was trying to sleep'," Scott joked, causing Harper and Stiles to genuinely laugh this time.

Her laugh ran in Stiles' ears like an old song that he'd forgotten the name of and heard after years of searching for it. It made his smile falter, the realisation that he should have been listening to that every day for the past three years hitting him. He adored the way Harper's skin creased under her eyes and how she tilted her head back and laughed unapologetically, not caring what she looked like while she did it.

"Are you ready to order?" The waitress from before was by their table again with a notepad in her hands and an expectant look on her face.

"Can we get some drinks? We haven't looked at food yet," Scott requested, ordering a couple of beers for himself and Stiles before looking to Harper.

"I'm driving so I'll just have a diet coke, thanks," Harper smiled sweetly at the woman and handed her the drinks menu back.

"Perks of supernatural healing," Scott sang happily before he sighed, "gotta go pee. Be right back."

The brunette's eyes widened as the man climbed from his chair and started heading to the back of the restaurant, leaving Harper all alone with Stiles. She bet he didn't even need to use the bathroom, he probably just wanted to get them alone for a bit.

When Harper glanced back to her former lover, he was already staring at her with pursed lips, like he wasn't sure what to do either. Stiles still carried his awkward tendencies, that was obvious, but his years as an FBI agent had clearly had some sort of influence on the way that he carried himself. He seemed more confident than before and he hadn't fiddled with anything on the table once.

"Long time no see, huh?" Stiles chuckled awkwardly, and Harper released a breathy chuckle that he had said what she was thinking of saying not long ago.

"Three years..." Harper agreed with a short nod, "how have you been?"

"I've been alright," Stiles shrugged, "you?"

Harper bit down on her bottom lip as their eyes connected for the first time in a long time. It felt so strange to be talking to him right now. Something that had been natural for her for years had suddenly disappeared for a while, but now they were talking like normal human beings and it was the most insane thing in the world to Harper.

"It's been okay," the brunette spoke.

For some reason, she felt like ranting to him right there and then about how shit everything had been without him; how her job sucked all of the energy out of her, how she'd changed so much that she couldn't even recognise herself, how her boyfriend had turned out to be a complete dick, and how smiling only seemed to happen now that she was back in Beacon Hills.

But Harper said nothing.

There was a small silence again before Harper sighed. "Look, Stiles-" His name falling past her lips caused his heart to skip a beat. "I don't see why this has to be so awkward between us."

Stiles nodded in agreement but waited for her to continue.

"We... We ended things because we didn't want to hurt each other," Harper's voice cracked slightly, and Stiles' heart with it. "So... We need to stop hurting each other still. Before we were boyfriend and girlfriend, we were best friends, Stiles. We valued that enough to try and save that part of us, we shouldn't make our breakup for nothing."

"I know," Stiles whispered, "I've..."

He stopped himself from telling her how much he'd missed her, shaking his head and forcing a smile.

"You'll always be my best friend, Harper," he told her sincerely, watching as a smile melted on her face before his eyes drifted to the man walking towards them. "You and this asshole right here."

Scott held his hands up in defence and laughed as he sat back in his chair. "Hey, what did I do?"

"Trying to get us both alone so we'll talk," Stiles rolled his eyes playfully, his tone lighthearted while he wished he could just talk to Harper properly- and not in a noisy Chinese restaurant with their best friend watching them like a hawk.

"You ain't slick, McCall," Harper giggled, moving forward and ruffling his hair.

Scott simply shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea what you two could possibly be talking about."

A different waiter came over and placed everybody's respective drinks in front of them, Harper picking up her glass and taking a sip of her diet cola. As the table went silent for a few seconds, memories of the reason that Harper was here came flooding back and she shivered, setting her drink back on the table.

"Scott, I actually do need to talk to you, though," Harper spoke, causing Stiles' brows to furrow in confusion.

Scott nodded, a small frown on his face as he looked at her worriedly. "Is everything okay?"

"I don't know..." She admitted, scratching the back of her neck.

It felt like when she thought about the moths she could feel them on her skin again, and she hated it. The sensation was enough to make her want to scream, the hair brushing against her neck causing her to cringe.

"What happened?" Scott demanded.

"I don't know if I'm just making a mountain out of a molehill here... I probably am just being paranoid, but I don't know... nothing else really explains it," Harper muttered, "I went to my car a few hours ago to go to the shops, only thousands of moths came flying out, Scott. Thousands. And I saw one earlier in broad daylight while I was driving home. Don't laugh- I know how stupid it sounds."

Scott didn't laugh, a sympathetic look on his face. "Are you sure it was as many as you think?"

Harper nodded quickly, "one hundred percent. They were in my hair- they were everywhere."

"Did you drive your car here?" Stiles asked, causing Harper to glance over to him.

"No," she breathed, "I drove Lydia's. I just slammed the door and went back inside."

Stiles turned to Scott. "Maybe we should take a look at her car?"

"You think this could be supernatural?" Scott lowered his voice, dread lacing his tone.

"It is Beacon Hills," Stiles muttered sourly, "if Harper says thousands of moths came out of her car, then chances are she doesn't have a bug problem- she has a supernatural one."

Harper released a shaky breath and leaned back in her chair. "Fuck my life."  
...

The brunette swore she was about to freeze to death as she stood outside her rental car, her hands rubbing up and down her arms as she watched Scott and Stiles both scavenger through the front and backseats using the torches on their iPhones. She would have helped if she wasn't so nervous one would come out and fly in her face again.

"Do you see anything?" Harper called, leaning on her toes to try and peer past Scott who had his head ducked.

"I did," Stiles called and he was then awkwardly trying to climb out from the backseats, his long legs getting in the way and causing him to stumble a little.

A hint of a smile crossed her face at his actions, the way his arms flailed reminding her of his teenage self that she had been so in love with. However, pinched between his slender fingers was a dead moth, a grimace crossing his face as he threw it to the floor carelessly and brushed his hand down his trousers.

"Well, you definitely didn't imagine it," he grumbled.

Scott seemed deep in thought, his brows furrowed. "You know... Something like this happened a couple of weeks back."

"What do you mean?" Harper asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"Not to me, but to somebody at work," the werewolf began to explain, "this man came to the animal clinic- said something about his garage being filled with them one morning. He asked if I knew anything about them."

"Do you know anything about moths?" Stiles squinted his eyes expectantly.

Scott's face scrunched up, "no. I work with cats and dogs, not bugs. I told him I'd do some research, though."

"Well... did you?" The petite brunette to his side questioned.

"No..."

"Scott," Harper groaned, rolling her eyes at him.

"No, this is good," Stiles spoke, "If other people are having the same experiences, then there could be a pattern."

"One's an incident, two's a coincidence," Harper murmured under her breath, causing Stiles' head to snap in her direction, his eyes softening at the fact that he had remembered that expression after so many years. "Maybe there's a third."

"Maybe we're waiting on the third," Stiles agreed, the pair making eye contact.

Their eyes tore apart when Scott spoke up, "So we just wait for hordes of moths to turn up again? What does this even mean?"

Harper pulled her phone out of her bag and went straight to Google, ignoring the two men as they started to question whether or not this was like the entire Darach situation all over again. The brunette sure hoped that it wasn't, she didn't fancy working out who was going to be taken next all over again- that was stressful.

Less than a minute later, her brown eyes were hooked on a page she'd found. She started to smack the person who was closest to her on the arm, hearing a small yelp and realising that it was Stiles. She retracted her hand, feeling like it was on fire.

"Listen to this, guys," her face was lit up by the screen as she glanced up to check they were watching her- which they were. "Okay, so, apparently moths symbolise disguise and camouflage, and it says that moths are omens of death can suggest the decay of a society."

Stiles rubbed his forehead, "well, isn't that great? Why can't Beacon Hills give us something cool for once? Like puppies?"

Scott chuckled dryly, "welcome home, guys."


	6. Chapter 6

"I hate old people."

Stiles chuckled at his girlfriend from where he stood with his back to her, chopping a bell pepper at the counter of their small kitchen. She hadn't even given him a proper greeting yet, but he could tell from the tone of her voice and the way she dropped her bag to the ground carelessly that she was too exhausted to function properly.

"What happened this time?" He asked softly, picking up a slice of the fruit and walking over to her slumped body on the couch, handing it to her.

Harper accepted the pepper with a tired smile, taking a small bite and relaxing slightly in the seat. Her ponytail was messy from work and she smelled of coffee, the shirt on her body becoming home to a couple of stains. That was the usual, though. Harper was too clumsy not to come home without a new marking.

"What didn't happen?" The twenty-two-year-old chuckled dryly, finishing off the slice of pepper and pulling her hair out of its style. "I swear to god, they think we're mind readers or something. I ask if they want a medium or a large coffee and they look at me like I told them they can't go to bingo anymore or some shit."

Stiles laughed at his girlfriend, dropping to the couch beside her and guiding her head to his chest where he started to stroke her hair. It seemed to comfort her, her body slumping against his further and her eyes almost fluttering closed.

"This job isn't forever, remember? And if it makes you feel any better, I'm making your favourite," Stiles told her, "and I bought the right mix this time, so no more curry-flavoured chicken fajitas."

Harper giggled at him and managed to roll her eyes, grabbing his large hand and starting to play with it. Her hand looked so tiny compared to his, and both of them loved it. She twiddled with his fingers for a couple of seconds before intertwining his with hers, their palms connecting. Stiles wrapped his fingers around so that they were holding hands.

"You're the actual best, Sti," Harper yawned, bringing their hands to her lips so she could press a kiss against his. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably be going hungry," Stiles shrugged playfully before forcing himself to stand. "You go take a hot bath or something, I'll call you when dinner's ready."

Harper grinned, standing up and grabbing the back of his neck, forcing him down to her height. Before he could even process it, her lips were on his and she was kissing him. Stiles immediately kissed back, his hand holding the back of her head and the other grabbing her waist. Their kiss lasted a few more seconds before Harper forced herself to pull away, peering into his eyes with a loving smile.

"I'm in love with you, Stiles Stilinski."

"And I'm in love with you, Harper Stilinski," he replied softly, his hand moving to cup her cheek, his hazel eyes shining in adoration.

Harper leaned on her toes and brushed her nose against his. "Not yet but soon, bubba."

"And I can't wait."

"Stiles," Lydia snapped her fingers in front of the man's face, causing him to snap out of his daydreaming of distant memories. "I'm assuming you're here for Harper?"

Stiles blinked suddenly and realised that he was stood in the doorway of the apartment that Harper and Lydia were renting. The strawberry blonde stood in front of him with an expectant look behind her green eyes, her stare making him just as uncomfortable as it did in sophomore year when she used to purposely call him 'Miles' and pretend he didn't exist.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," Stiles cleared his throat, offering the Banshee a smile. "It's good to see you, Lydia."

Her eyes softened and the corner of her lips tugged up a little. "Yeah, you too, Stiles. How have you been?"

After the breakup, both Harper and Stiles had made it clear that they didn't want their friends to pick sides- that them ending their relationship was a mutual decision and what was healthy and right for them to prevent a potentially toxic relationship that would end in them hating each other.

However, while the other members of the pack managed to maintain separate friendships with both parties, Lydia had apparently failed to get the memo. It was rather 'high school' of her, but Lydia stuck like glue to Harper and refused to give Stiles the time of day.

"I've been alright," he gave the same response that he gave to everybody that asked him. "What about you?"

Lydia grinned smugly, "Oh, I've been fantastic." She turned her head over her shoulder and practically screamed Harper's name, telling her to come to the door. "She'll be right here in a sec. I'm assuming the two of you are talking again?"

"We're trying," Stiles mumbled quietly, his eyes trailing past the strawberry blonde when he saw a certain brunette turning the corner and coming down the hall.

Harper looked as beautiful as always; her hair had been curled into loose waves and she was wearing a ditsy floral tea dress, her tan skin glowing.

He loved to see her like this, so casually dressed yet looking more stunning than any other girl he had ever seen before, but he also loved seeing her first thing in the morning when she could barely open her eyes and her hair was in the world's messiest bun on top of her head. She just had that effect on him.

"Hey, Stiles," she greeted sweetly, moving over to where her shoes were by the door and slipping them on.

"Hey," Stiles replied, not sure if it would be appropriate to compliment the way she looked. "Sorry I'm a little early."

Harper went to tell him that it was no problem when Lydia scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Harper's been ready for the past half an hour."

The easy smile on Harper's face quickly changed to a horrified expression and she had to stop herself from hitting Lydia around the head right there and then. Luckily, Stiles only smiled, his hands moving into the pockets of the jacket he wore.

"You know me," Harper chuckled awkwardly, "always ready early."

Stiles wanted to remind her of all of the times that she'd been late or the last one ready between the two, but he decided not to. After all, it had been three years, and she was bound to pick up new characteristics and traits.

It only really hit him there and then that he didn't know everything about the woman stood in front of him for the first time ever and it scared him a little.

"Let's go," Harper breathed, grabbing her denim jacket off the hook by the door and sending Lydia a quick death squint before leaving.

"I hope you don't mind, I figured we could go see my dad before we get coffee?" Stiles asked although he was pretty sure that he already knew her answer.

Her brown eyes brightened and she gasped, quickly nodding. "As if you even have to ask!" Harper practically squealed, "oh my gosh, I haven't seen your dad since..."

She trailed off, the two of them being reminded of what had happened. Stiles held a grin on his face nevertheless, shaking his head. He was happy that Harper still loved his dad, and his dad still loved Harper like his own daughter.

"Yeah, I know he misses you," Stiles shrugged.

Harper smirked playfully, "He did always say that I was his favourite."

...

"I don't care, Parrish," Harper heard the familiar grumble of a certain Sheriff, a small smile playing upon her lips. "Just go see what Mr Henderson wants this time."

Stiles pushed open the door to the Sheriff's office without knocking, poking his head around the door and sending a smile to his father who sat behind his desk, running his pal down his face as he tried not to grow even further stressed.

Parrish also greeted Stiles with a nod and a smile before he obeyed his boss, waving to Harper on the way out. Noah Stilinski glanced up tiredly, his entire face brightening at the sight of his son.

"Stiles," he moved from behind his desk and wrapped the young man into a tight hug, practically smacking him on the back.

Stiles held back just as hard before feeling his father tense against him before an excited yell left his lips. Within seconds, he'd ripped himself from Stiles' grip and he was rushing towards the girl stood in the doorway, immediately grabbing her small frame and tugging her into a bear hug.

Harper giggled, hugging Noah back. "Hi, Noah."

"Harper," he gasped as he pulled away, his hands remaining in her arms where he inspected her like he couldn't believe she was actually real. "You're here! Why are you—"

His head whipped around to his son who was admiring the pair, his blue eyes squinting.

"Are you two back—"

"No, no, no," Stiles rushed to cut him off, and Harper almost blushed. "No, we're not back together. Just friends."

A disappointed look gleamed in the man's eyes and his smile faltered a little, but he just sighed and took the pair into a small group hug. Harper wrapped her arms around both men as she was squished into the middle of the Stilinski sandwich, her heart pounding when she felt Stiles' hand on her back.

"I'm so glad you two are both here," he squeezed Stiles' shoulder as they all parted. "I missed you both."

"I saw you a couple months ago, dad."

Noah shot him a warning glare, allowing his son to know that it was a couple months too long. Stiles just sighed in understanding.

"How have you been, Harper? Manhattan treating you well?"

Harper had heard that question too many times in the past couple of days, yet she couldn't bring herself to be annoyed when it was Sheriff Stilinski asking her. He was the only genuine father-figure she'd ever had in her life and she loved him like a real father, too.

"I'm good," Harper beamed at him. "Manhattan's cool, too. There's too many people, though."

Stiles secretly wanted her to continue talking. He didn't know how to ask her about these types of things without sounding like the obsessive ex-boyfriend. Normally, Harper would never shut up when somebody asked her about something she loved or was even remotely passionate about— so maybe she hated the place?

He wasn't completely sure why, but Stiles almost wanted her to hate Manhattan. It probably was an awful thing to think, but he couldn't help but hope that she missed Beacon Hills like he did most nights. Maybe she missed everything about Beacon Hills— including him?

"Yeah, I bet," Sheriff Stilinski scoffed, shaking his head. "I surely couldn't live there."

Harper simply smiled, "how's Beacon Hills since the lack of supernatural disasters?"

"It's been quiet without you guys running around," Noah chuckled, "maybe a good quiet, maybe a bad quiet. I don't know."

"I get it," Harper shrugged, "one time a couple months back, I woke up totally disoriented and I thought I was late for school."

"I've had that too," the youngest Stilinski shuddered. "I've also had countless nightmares about Harris, but I don't wanna talk about that."

The petite brunette beside him giggled, making him feel some sort of accomplishment. It felt refreshing after the past three years wondering if she hated him or didn't care about him anymore to see her smiling around him and interacting with his father as if they'd never split up in the first place.

"Everybody's had the Harris dream at some point or another," Harper assured him, making him crack a smile.

He remembered all of the detentions that he'd received from their sophomore chemistry teacher and how many times he'd had to separate him, Harper, and Scott for talking. And every single time he'd be kept in after school, no matter how long, Harper would wait outside the classroom for him or text him if he was actually allowed his phone.

He wished they were still those kids sometimes.

"Well, guys," Noah sighed as he shuffled some papers on his desk and then tossed a post it note on top into the bin beside it. "I better get on with some work. Some old guy keeps calling in about a bug problem he's been having. You know how many times I've told him that this is a police station, not pest control?"

Harper and Stiles' eyes both widened and they turned to face each other wearing matching expressions of shock.

"What's this guy's address?" Stiles questioned.

Noah scoffed but didn't look up from his work. "Why? You wanna go over and recommend someone to him?"

Stiles gave his father a pointed look.

"Fine. Come here, I'll write it down."

...

The idea of catching up over coffee had been ditched; Harper and Stiles were on a mission. The FBI agent and the therapist climbed out of blue jeep and started to head towards the house that Sheriff Stilinski had written on a torn piece of paper. It looked pristine, surrounded by freshly cut grass and a white picket fence.

"What are you gonna say?" Harper asked as they moved up the pathway, watching as Stiles rapped his knuckles on the door. "'You got moths?'"

Before he could reply, the door was being opened, revealing a man who was probably in his seventies. Harper sent him a tight-lipped smile while Stiles kept a straight face.

"Can I help you?" The man peered between the two of them expectantly.

"Maybe you can, Mr Henderson," Stiles spoke, "I heard from the Sheriff's department that you've been involved in some incidents surrounding hordes of moths?"

Harper realised how stupid Stiles sounded, especially when he spoke with such an authorative tone. The man looked completely taken aback, opening the door further and nodding quickly.

"Yeah, yeah, that's me," Mr Henderson sounded nervous, even jittery. "Stilinski keeps saying I need to stop calling- that it's nothin' to do with them..." He held a look of realisation before frowning at them. "Who are you two?"

Stiles held out his hand for the man to shake. "Agent Stilinski. This is Agent Verum."

Harper almost gasped out loud at the lie, forcing herself to shake Mr Henderson's boney hand when he held it out to her. She prayed that they didn't get caught out in this lie. Not only could Harper get into a lot of trouble, but Stiles could get fired for this.

"Come in, come in," Henderson opened the door and Harper and Stiles both froze at the sight.

Littered across the hallway were dozens of dead moths, some with their black and golden wings torn apart. Harper bent down and picked one up off of the floor, inspecting the pattern on its back. She grabbed her iPhone out of her pocket and took a picture of it while Stiles started to ask what had happened.

"They fly in every night," the man whispered, clearly traumatised, "I think someone's messin' with me, but nobody will listen. Pest control don't know anything about it."

Harper swallowed, dropping the moth back to the floor and scanning the others. They all held the same colours, and a strange pattern on their bodies that looked eerily like a skull. She barely listened as Stiles managed to drone on for a couple of minutes about how they were trying to sort it out when the man spoke again.

"You haven't even seen the worst of it."

Stiles exchanged a concerned glance with Harper as the pair started to follow the stranger through his house and out to the back, entering a garage. The floor was covered in the moths, some a lot bigger than others.

The brunette backed up from the doorway, trying not to gag at the sight. Stiles held a frown on his face as he turned back to Mr Henderson and nodded shortly. Harper guessed he'd seen a lot worse in the few years he'd been an FBI agent. Hell, she'd seen a lot worse too during her teenage years, but it had been over seven years.

"We'll try and get a professional out as soon as possible, sir," Stiles handed him a card with his number on it, "If anything out of the ordinary happens to you, please don't hesitate to call. We'll call you if we find out anything, too."

"Thank you. Thank you both."

...

"I can't believe you lied to that man," Harper hissed as soon as she heard him shut the door behind the pair, "You realise you could get in serious trouble for saying that, right?"

Stiles chuckled a little at her, "Chill out, Harper. We're fine- it's fine. Who's he gonna complain to if he figures out you aren't a real FBI agent, anyway? My dad? Besides, he won't even suspect a thing."

The brunette didn't laugh back, she just chewed down on her bottom lip with furrowed brows. She rubbed her arm and glanced back at the house as she climbed into the passenger side of the jeep again.

"Why do you think his house is full of them?" Harper asked, "And what does it even mean?"

"I don't know," Stiles admitted as he started up the car. "And maybe we won't find out until something actually does happen."

The Empath grew silent as Stiles grunted, muttering something about being low on fuel. He pulled into the nearest gas station and climbed out, shaking his head to move his shaggy hair out of his face. Harper wasn't sure she'd ever get used to seeing him with long hair, especially without it being gelled up into his messy quiff.

"Do you need anything?" Stiles asked once he'd finished filling up the gas.

The corner of Harper's lips tugged up into a sort of half-smile and she shook her head. "No thanks, Stiles."

Stiles nodded before shutting the door and started to head towards the garage to pay. Harper sighed once his figure was out of sight, slumping back into her seat and running her hands across the dashboard in front of her. Curiously, she pulled open glove compartment, revealing dozens of receipts and some old CDs.

She reached forward and grabbed them, swiping off the coat of dust on top of them all. They consisted of all of Stiles' favourite bands and artists from when he was just a teenager; some All Time Low, a little Fall Out Boy... and when Harper got to the last CD, she smiled slightly at the sight of her favourite The Neighbourhood album.

The brunette moved the handful of CDs back to where they belonged and shut the glove compartment, releasing a bored sigh and sitting back in her seat. Her fingers continued to drum on the gear shift to her side, her brown eyes glancing towards the garage where Stiles had yet to return.

Harper reached into her bag and pulled out a lip balm, running it across her lips. She cursed quietly when she felt some go above her top lip and pulled down the sun visor to swipe it away. Something fell from it and drifted down to her feet and she rolled her eyes. What else was going to go wrong?

The petite woman swiped the fallen object off of her shoes and moved to put it back inside the sun visor, pausing when she realised it was a polaroid. Her heart stopped for a split second as she stared at the face of her teenage self beside a teenage Stiles, the two of them appearing at the peak of their happiness.

Scribbled underneath was her own handwriting: 'love you forever, from harps'.

Before she could think too much, she noticed a figure coming towards the jeep in the corner of her eye and quickly put the polaroid back where it belonged. She swiped the lip balm off of her skin and closed it just as the door opened and Stiles entered. He sent her a small smile and handed her a small packet of Sour Patch Kids.

"Are they still your favourite?"

Harper bit down on her lip and tried not to break out in a grin. "Yeah, thanks, Sti."

Sti.

Stiles had to bite back a grin of his own.


	7. Chapter 7

"Lydia, I don't know what to do!"

The strawberry blonde watched through the screen of her iPhone as Harper sobbed on the other end, her eyes rimmed red and her cheeks splotchy from the amount she'd been crying.

Honestly, Lydia wasn't too sure what to do either from where she sat in her home in LA. She hated seeing Harper so upset and knowing there was nothing she could do about it.

"First off, you need to calm down, Harper," Lydia tried to speak as calmly as possible, "Stop getting yourself so worked up before you have a panic attack."

Nodding, Harper tried to listen to her best friend and concentrated on her breathing like she'd been taught to do in the past. Her deep breaths came out shaky and forced, but slowly the brunette was starting to calm down, fewer tears falling from her eyes than before.

"Now you need to get your ass down to the nearest pharmacy and get yourself a test," Lydia instructed, "There's no point in getting yourself so worked up if you don't know if you're actually pregnant yet or not."

Harper shook her head, sniffling. "I'm too young for this shit, Lyds. And I know he's not ready either."

She listened to the Banshee anyway, climbing from her spot on her bedroom floor and moving over to her bag. Lydia stayed on the phone with her all the way to the pharmacy and all the way back, right until Harper heard a knock at her bathroom door.

"I gotta go," Harper whispered, "he's home."

"Good luck, Harps. Text me when you know."

Harper hung up and unlocked the door, rubbing her eyes as she came face to face with her boyfriend. Calum stood there with a concerned look on his face, his brows furrowed. His large hand reached out and he cupped her cheek, tilting her head to look him in the eye.

"Babe, what happened?" Calum worried.

"I- I'm late," Harper replied, "And I've been throwing up lately and-"

"You think you might be pregnant?" Calum gave nothing away with the tone of his voice, but Harper was able to detect excitement and it made her feel even sicker.

There was no way she was ready for a baby, especially with this man. This was not how she had planned for her life to go. She'd only met Calum four months ago and she wasn't even in love with him. She wanted- no, needed- to be in love with the child of her baby. That was important to her.

"Maybe," Harper croaked.

"Why are you crying?" The man swiped some of her hair from out of her face and tucked it behind her ear in a soothing matter. "If you are pregnant then we will get through this together, okay? There's no need to be upset."

Harper nodded, a lump in her throat when the timer on the counter started to go off. She felt her knees grow weak and Calum wrapped his arm around her waist, moving over to the pregnancy test. Harper's hand shook as she raised it to her line of sight, her heart skipping a beat.

Not Pregnant.

Her hand cupped her mouth and she released a cry of relief, her body almost sinking to the floor if it wasn't for the grip that Calum had on her. He must have taken her cry for sadness as he grabbed her and turned her to face his chest, wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

Harper cried for a couple of minutes after that, feeling immensely guilty. She didn't feel bad for Calum, she felt bad for Stiles. They'd spoken about having kids together on numerous occasions; he'd even said that they could name the first one whatever she wanted before he was taken by the Ghost Riders when they were only eighteen-years-old.

Yet here she sat on the bathroom floor with a man she didn't even love, a pregnancy test cupped in her hand. She just thanked God that she wasn't pregnant.

"Hey, Harps," Allison waved her hand in front of the brunette's face when she realised that she had zoned out from the conversation. "You okay there?"

Harper blinked, her cheeks heating up when she realised that all of her friends were looking at her. She nodded her head, quickly tearing her eyes away from a certain pair of hazel ones when they briefly met. She wasn't sure why she'd been thinking about that moment right now, and she could feel the guilt swallowing her alive.

"Yeah, sorry," she murmured, "Daydreaming."

"Okay, well, Lydia and Malia found something," Scott explained, "Mr Henderson's house was built on top of a supernatural gravesite, which is why we think the moths might be drawn there."

Harper's face scrunched up. "I'm sorry, what? A supernatural gravesite?"

"In 1913, humans tried to wipe the supernatural out of Beacon Hills after the Sheriff's wife was killed by what they thought was a werewolf. They gave everybody a week to leave, and then after that they started doing these inspections. Entire families were killed if they were even rumoured to carry the slightest bit of supernatural DNA, and once Beacon Hills was cleansed, or so they thought, the bodies were buried in the woods," Lydia explained.

Malia nodded, "Deaton said they built over the graveyard a few years later. The Sheriff covered it up and everybody forgot about it."

A frown was kept on Harper's face and she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Does that mean Beacon Hills is being haunted or something? By a bunch of angry dead supernaturals?"

"That's one theory," Allison spoke, "Deaton also said that it could mean something bigger is coming and that the moths are just the warning."

"Okay, but a warning for what?" Malia groaned, folding her arms across her chest from where she stood beside Stiles. "'Cause I'd really like to know if something's coming after me anytime soon."

"It's a waiting game," the Stilinski man announced, dread lacing his tone. "Now, we wait."

...

The waiting game was filling the whole pack with anxiety. It had been a couple of days and nothing had happened; even Mr Henderson hadn't called in about any more moths. However, Harper knew better than to think that it was all over. She knew that this was just the beginning.

One of Allison's playlists played from one of the speakers nearby, or more precisely a song that Harper didn't know. She yawned as she stared between the three different shades of light pink. Apparently, the colour of the serviettes was extremely important to Allison, and she needed a third opinion on them.

"They all look the same," Harper shrugged.

"No, they don't," Allison scolded her gently, dropping the pamphlets she had in front of her and leaning across to grab the one in Harper's left hand. "This one is, like, dustier. And this one is more of a blush pink."

"What about just white serviettes?" The brunette suggested, placing them all down on the coffee table she sat beside.

Allison rolled her eyes, "No, the table cloths are white."

"But if you're having white and pink roses as your centrepieces then it will cancel it out, so there's not too much pink," Harper said, "too much pink and people might think you're throwing a baby shower."

The former huntress seemed deep in thought for a moment, her brows furrowing and her lips scrunching together.

"Okay," Allison nodded in agreement, "Okay. I'll text my wedding planner and see what she thinks."

As Allison grabbed her phone from the coffee table, there was a knock at the door causing Harper to sigh. She lifted herself from the carpeted ground and brushed her aching knees, leaving the living room and heading down the short corridor to the front door.

She pulled it open to reveal Scott and Stiles both stood there, grins on their faces. Scott lifted the white bags in his hands up, the smell of takeaway filling Harper's nostrils. The brunette smiled at her two childhood best friends and opened the door wider, inviting them in.

"Thought we'd stop for some Chinese takeout," Scott spoke as they walked down the hall.

"Two Chinese meals in one week?" Harper groaned, patting her stomach as she followed behind them both. "I'm gonna get so fat."

"We can hit the gym in the morning," Allison shrugged, starting to take some of the pamphlets she'd been looking at off of the table. "Remember what I told you, Scott? No junk-"

"No junk food until the wedding," Scott mimicked as he placed the bags down on the coffee table and moved over to rest his hands on her hips. "But how many times have I told you? You'll look beautiful no matter what."

The dark-haired woman pouted at him, "Even if I don't fit into my dress?"

Scott laughed but nodded. "Even if you don't fit into your dress. C'mon, let's go get some forks. I'm starving."

The engaged couple started to head into Lydia and Harper's temporary kitchen, unaware of the two pairs of eyes on them. Both were unknowingly imagining themselves in Allison and Scott's positions, slightly jealous that everything had seemed to work out so well for them.

"Where's Lydia and Malia?" Stiles eventually broke the silence.

"Lydia's with her new girlfriend and Malia said if she had to help plan one more thing for the wedding then she would claw her own eyes out," Harper explained before she lowered her voice, "I don't really blame her. Allison is a total bridezilla."

The hazel-eyed man chuckled, "I can imagine."

Harper started to grab more crap off of the table, moving it to the other side of the room to avoid it getting messed up. Stiles started to help her, the pair working in silence other than Allison's music playing in the background.

Eventually, a minute later, Scott and Allison emerged from the kitchen with plates and cutlery in their hands which they placed carefully down on the coffee table. Harper rubbed her hands together in excitement, hearing her stomach growl slightly.

"Drinks, anyone?" She asked.

The three adults sat around on the couches called out their requests from where they were starting to fill their plates up with food. Harper moved into the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing a few diet cola cans and a glass from the cabinet for her own water.

"Who's phone's ringing?" Stiles huffed in annoyance, his hazel eyes scanning the room for the source of the constant buzzing.

His eyes landed on an iPhone on one of the armchairs and he picked it up, his brows tugging together when he saw the contact name.

'CALUM <3 IS CALLING....'

His heart stopped for a moment and he felt genuinely betrayed, even if he knew Harper didn't owe him anything. The Stilinski man had spent countless nights awake and wondering what she was up to, whether she had found love with somebody else... and it turned out she had.

Stiles felt slightly sick as the phone stopped ringing, revealing that this Calum person had tried calling Harper three times. Scott glanced up when he realised how quiet Stiles had grown, frowning at the look on his face.

"What's up, dude?" The werewolf asked.

"Um, Harper's phone was ringing," he shrugged like it was no big deal, handing it to Allison who'd climbed to retrieve it. "Someone called Calum."

The dark-haired man noticed the way both Scott and Allison's eyes had widened slightly. They knew that Harper had a boyfriend and they hadn't told him. He couldn't help feeling like he'd been left in the dark.

"Calum's her ex, Stiles," Allison tried to reassure him quietly, "She's not with him anymore."

Anybody could tell that the couple were on the road to making amends again. Everybody, including Harper and Stiles themselves, knew that it was impossible for them to just remain friends- that's why the hadn't seen each other in three years, for god's sake.

Harper knew what was going on and Stiles knew what was going on; they weren't those same oblivious teenagers anymore.

Stiles was slightly relieved that she wasn't leading him on and that she and this Calum guy had broken up, but he hated the fact that she'd been with him in the first place. Sure, he'd slept with a couple of girls, but he couldn't even handle looking them in the eye afterwards. Harper had been in an actual relationship with somebody.

What do you expect, dumbass? For her to wait around forever? She doesn't owe you anything, she has the right to move on.

Of course Stiles knew that, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

"How long were they together?" Stiles asked quietly as Allison moved into the kitchen to give the phone to Harper.

Scott hesitated, "Five months, maybe? They broke up the night before Harper came back to Beacon Hills."

There was a lump in Stiles' throat. Harper had probably been kissing this guy only five days ago.

"I'm sorry nobody told you, man," Scott's hand moved to squeeze Stiles' shoulder. "She never loved him if that makes you feel any better. Lydia said they broke up because he was an asshole."

Harper deserves better, he thought.

Stiles forced a nod and sat back down on the couch, wondering how the hell he was going to get through this dinner knowing what he knew now.

As Harper stood at the tap, waiting for her glass to fill, a hand tapped her shoulder, making her jump. Harper turned, coming face to face with Allison who was holding her phone. The shorter woman chuckled sheepishly, holding one hand to her heart.

"Bloody hell, Allison. You made me jump," Harper giggled, but her smile faded at the expression her friend wore.

"Calum's been trying to call you," Allison warned, giving her the phone which read she had three missed calls. "Stiles saw."

Harper's heart stopped at her last sentence, even if she wasn't with Stiles or Calum anymore. The brunette swallowed and sent the former huntress a nod, but Allison could sense her slight panic.

"I told him you weren't together again," Allison whispered, "He seems kind of shocked, I don't know... Are you gonna call him back?"

"I'm gonna tell him to leave me alone," Harper whispered back, the grip on her phone tight. "I feel like I'm getting somewhere with Stiles, Ally. If this sets us back then I don't know what I'll do..."

Allison shook her head, "Stiles was going to find out anyway unless you wanted a relationship based around secrets, which I know you don't. And you're adults, Harper. He's going to understand more than you think."

Harper nodded, "Okay. Okay... um, I'm going to call Calum back. See what he wanted."

"Let me take these out," the brunette grabbed the cans of coke and sent her friend a small, reassuring smile. "Stand up for yourself against that asshole, Harper."

...

Harper tried to channel her inner-Lydia as she pressed Calum's name in her contacts, but not before erasing the heart that had been beside it. It didn't take long for the beeping to stop and for Calum to answer the phone, just as she'd expected.

"Harper?" Calum's voice came through the other end and it was the epitome of desperation. "You actually left. You left me."

The brunette couldn't help but cringe at how childish he sounded. It was almost sinister, as if he was trying to manipulate her into coming back to Manhattan- back to him.

Harper knew that she could never be with Calum again, not only did she have too much respect for herself but she was also too in love with a certain Stiles Stilinski.

"Please don't tell me you're in my apartment right now," Harper hissed, trying to keep her voice down so that the others wouldn't hear.

It was sort of impossible to do unless she resorted to whispering, and besides, Scott had supernatural hearing. He'd hear even if he didn't want to.

"No, of course not, no," Calum protested, "I went to your work. The receptionist said you're not in for another month. Are you back in Beacon Hills?"

Harper went silent for a few seconds as she made a mental note to tell the receptionist at work and at her apartment complex not to let Calum up anymore.

"That's none of your business."

"C'mon, Harper. You're all about second chances," the man on the other end of the phone spoke, "And I've been thinking about what you said... How our ideas of love are different, and I'm willing to work on the issues I have."

"Some people don't get second chances, Calum," Harper shrugged, "Life's a bitch like that sometimes. And good for you, you should work on those issues. Maybe you can make another girl very happy someday."

She could tell that Calum was boiling with anger, a small smirk playing on her lips. He thought he knew everything about her, but he didn't really. He knew the surface of the new Harper she liked to think she was, he didn't know the Harper that the people in the living room knew. He didn't even know she was an Empath, or about any of her adventures as a teenager- and that was who she was.

"I don't want to make another girl happy, Harper," Calum pleaded, "I only wanna make you happy."

"You want to make me happy?" Harper breathed heavily through her nose. "Then delete my number."

She hung up on him straight away and clicked on his icon before blocking his contact. Harper made another mental note to change her phone number, having no idea to what extent Calum would go to try and reach her again.

The brunette released a sigh of relief and put the device down on the counter, holding her head in her hands. She wished she'd never got mixed up with Calum, he was nowhere near the person she thought he was. One minute he'd been making her dinner and the next he was calling her his property and smacking her around the face.

"Are you okay?" Harper glanced up to see Scott stood bashfully in the doorway. "I tried not to listen but..."

"I get it," Harper chuckled softly, shaking her head at him. "Werewolf hearing. Not your fault."

"Come here."

Harper walked straight into her brother's open arms and immediately wrapped herself around him, her head resting on his chest. Scott smoothed her hair down in an attempt to calm her nerves since he could hear how hard her heart was still pounding. He wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline or the anger or both.

"What did he do?" Scott hesitated to ask.

He felt her tense slightly in his hold and Scott's blood ran cold, realising that Calum must have done something bad to his Harper.

Scott always promised to look out for the brunette in his arms, ever since her parents died when she was thirteen and he realised just how vulnerable she could be. He'd done a pretty good job too, considering the circumstances they'd been under during their time at high school.

Scott had never really liked Calum.

He'd met him a few times over Skype calls, but that was it. Allison often updated him on whatever Harper would say about him, and from what Scott knew, Calum sounded way too perfect. He also couldn't help but notice how he slightly resembled Stiles, but that man was not his best friend, and that's why Scott held a strong reluctance to him.

"He said some fucked up stuff," Harper whispered after a moment of hesitation. "And..."

She trailed off, her face slightly scrunching up as she pulled away from Scott and pushed her hair out of her face, shaking her head.

"It doesn't matter," Harper insisted, "It doesn't matter."

Scott reached forward and held onto her wrist, pulling her a little closer gently.

"Maybe if you tell somebody you will feel better," Scott spoke softly, letting her know he wasn't trying to pressure her in any way.

Harper chuckled bitterly, "You're starting to sound like the therapist, Scotty."

The dark-haired-man only offered her a half-smile but didn't say anything. Harper knew he wanted her to fill in the gaps.

She bit her lip. "He hit me."

Scott's eyes darkened, his jaw clenching. Harper immediately moved to soften her words, but Scott was turning away from her, his eyes closed as he tried to comprehend what he had just been told.

"He hit you?" He repeated, disbelief lacing his tone.

"Yeah, but I looked after myself," Harper insisted, "I kneed him in the balls and almost broke his nose after."

Despite her words of attempted reassurance, Scott couldn't help the rage that settled in his veins. He felt the need to punch this man that he had never met; give him a taste of his own medicine. Harper could feel the fury radiating from him and a small sigh escaped her lips, her hands grabbing his arm and trying to calm him.

"Scotty, please, don't make this a big deal," Harper pleaded with him quietly, "I sorted it. Calum won't be calling me anytime soon."

"What about when you go back to Manhattan, huh?"

That sentence made Harper's heart drop. She didn't really want to go back to Manhattan any more.

"Please," Harper repeated, her brown eyes shining, "I'll be okay."

...

Harper sat with her arms folded across her chest, watching the television in front of her with a bored expression across her face. Scott and Allison had fallen asleep against each other on the couch and Stiles sat a little further away from them, his hazel eyes straining to watch the screen in the dark.

He hadn't spoken to her since she'd emerged from the kitchen and Harper could feel that he was battling with his inner thoughts. To be fair, Harper would be too if she found out Stiles had an ex-girlfriend that was trying to contact him.

"I'll be right back."

His voice made Harper jump and she saw that he was heading towards the front door. The brunette watched as he left, closing it quietly behind him. Harper didn't think much of it as she stood from the armchair and grabbed some of the plates off of the coffee table, making her way into the kitchen.

A couple of minutes later, she had all of the plates in the sink and she was washing them up when she heard someone enter. She sent a small smile to Stiles over her shoulder, earning one back as the Stilinski man glanced around at the room, taking in all of the unfamiliar scenery.

As he grabbed a tea towel and started to dry up, Harper swallowed at the nostalgia. They'd spent so many nights like this in their old apartment, making cheap microwave meals and then having her wash up while he dried up and put everything away.

As Stiles moved past her to grab one of the freshly cleaned plates, the brunette caught a whiff of nicotine and she felt her heart crumble, devastation replacing it. Her movements froze and she felt sick.

"You s-smoke?" Harper asked quietly, and Stiles stopped what he was doing to nod.

"Only when I'm stressed," he admitted.

"That's a really bad habit to have, you know," Harper whispered, and Stiles suddenly remembered everything that had happened to her grandma.

It had been nine years, almost ten, but Stiles understood. He'd feel the same way if he found out Harper had picked up the dirty habit, especially if he had lost someone because of it too. He felt ashamed for the first time in a while, a guilty look on his face.

"I know," he swallowed, "I'm sorry."

Harper chuckled unhumorously and shrugged, "It's... it's not really any of my business, I guess. You don't need to apologise to me."

"But I should," Stiles didn't want to move to close to her since he knew he stank of cigarettes, but at the same time, he wanted to scoop her into his arms and hold her at the kicked-puppy-like expression written across her face. "I know... I know what it means to you."

"I just don't want you to end up like her," Harper admitted, "I don't want any of you to end up like my grandma. I... I care about you a lot, Stiles."

Stiles' heart clenched at her words and he smiled a little. "I care about you too."

He reached into the pocket of his jacket and opened the bin to his side, throwing the carton of cigarettes inside. Harper sent him a smile.

"I don't need them," Stiles said.

Harper moved and grabbed him first. Stiles felt like the breath had been knocked out of him, not because she'd hurt him, but because Harper Verum was hugging him. He'd missed her hugs more than anything, his heart hammering against his chest as his strong arms wrapped around her.

He felt her head lean against him and his hazel eyes flickered closed, finally feeling relaxed for the first time in three years. Despite the smell of cigarettes staining his shirt, Harper was holding him and he was holding her. Stiles was more muscular than he had been before, but it still felt like the most familiar action in the world to both of them.

"I never stopped," Harper whispered, and Stiles' large hands held her tighter.

He knew what she meant.

"Me either. I never will stop."


	8. Chapter 8

"Okay, now this feels like we're sixteen again."

Allison's statement had sent warmth through the Empath from where she was curled up on the couch, her head resting on Malia's arm tiredly. Lydia had emerged from the kitchen of their temporary apartment with some spoons for their ice cream while reruns of Friends played on the television, providing background noise to the four women who were trying to live out their teenage years.

Lydia put the spoons on the coffee table before throwing herself into the armchair and grinning. "I did always host the best sleepovers."

"Remember when we prank called Scott and Stiles and told them Harper was moving back to England and they freaked out?" Allison recalled, unable to stop her laughter.

A laugh fell from Harper's lips as she remembered that night in their junior year. "Oh my gosh, they blew up my phone until I called them back and Stiles was on the verge of tears."

The three girls who had attended the sleepover more than eight years ago all giggled while Malia pouted in a childish fashion, folding her arms across her chest.

"I missed out on so much because I was a coyote," Malia muttered bitterly, "And then Allison was busy being dead so we never got to all have a sleepover."

"Sorry about that," Allison chuckled, "But, yeah, we were definitely robbed of our teen years, Mal."

"We all were," the werecoyote responded, "I don't know about you guys, but whenever I try socialising with anybody outside the pack they look at me like I'm insane. The real world's hard, y'know? They don't get it."

Harper gave her a sympathetic smile, "I get it. It's like... Everybody else has all these crazy stories of high school parties and shit and I'm like... 'yeah, I was almost murdered on, like, thirteen different occasions 'cause all my friends were werewolves.' But obviously I can't tell them that, so it feels like... It kind of feels like..."

Sensing that her friend was struggling to get the correct words out, Lydia finished for her. "It feels like the only people we could ever understand us now is the pack. Even when we're all supposed to be 'in the real world' now."

"We're a pack for a reason," Malia shrugged with a small smile.

"But isn't part of adulthood making new friends?" Harper whispered, her eyes stuck on the blanket wrapped around her legs as all of her friends moved to stare at her. "We're supposed to start falling in love with new people and moving to places we've never been before and having connections with people that have no idea what or who we really are. They don't know anything about me... and I'm supposed to just accept that and... be an adult, I guess."

Lydia reached out and grabbed the girl's leg, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Stiles used to say this thing..." Harper continued solemnly, "He used to say that he was scared we wouldn't all still be friends later on, and I used to think it was stupid to be so scared because meeting new people would be easy. But... I feel like the only people I can trust are here. They're all in Beacon Hills. In the pack. He was right, and I should have been more worried. Adulthood... it's fucking lonely."

"I thought I was the only one that felt like that," Malia muttered.

"I guess I'm okay because I have Scott," Allison murmured, absentmindedly drawing circles on her knee as she spoke. "But I think I understand."

"We're a pack," Lydia swallowed, "I guess packs aren't really meant to be separated, huh?"

"You guys are the only people I could ever trust," Harper spoke, "But I guess that's what we get for not having normal teenage lives."

Malia grabbed the woman into a hug and squeezed her tight, and the next thing Harper knew, she was being surrounded by bodies. Allison and Lydia both clung to the other girls, the four women holding each other as they released the way they'd been feeling this whole time.

"I can't go back," they heard Harper sniffle and Lydia gasped when she realised that the brunette had started to cry. "I hate all the people there and I hate the weather and I hate my apartment and I just hate Manhattan. I hate it so much."

"Oh, babe," Lydia breathed, holding her even tighter. "You're gonna be okay."

"I haven't been okay in such a long time, Lyds," Harper sobbed, and it felt good to finally release all of her built-up feelings.

Her friends were all silently shocked. From what Harper told them, the brunette had been living the life she'd always wanted to live. She always spoke about how much she loved the city she lived in, and how she adored her job and Calum. Lydia felt awful for not realising how unhappy her best friend had been this whole time.

"I need you guys by my side," the Empath whispered croakily, "It's not my friends that I'm missing. I can make new friends. But I can't make new family, and that's who you guys are to me. That's why it's so hard. I miss my family."

"I think we all feel the same," Lydia rubbed her arm. "We need our pack."

"The pack need each other."

....

Harper woke abruptly to the sound of screams. Her heart leapt out of her chest and her eyes bulged open, her hands frantically feeling around her as if searching for someone. Malia groaned when she felt Harper whack her in the stomach, sitting up on the couch and searching for the direction of the screams.

The lights suddenly flickered on, the living room brightening and causing the brunette to squint. Lydia stood by the switch with an alarmed expression, her green eyes darting in the direction of the screams.

"Allison," Harper scrambled from where she'd fallen asleep on the couch, quickly grabbing the woman by the arms.

The former huntress' skin was paler than paper and coated in a layer of sweat, her brows furrowed as she released horrified and painful screams. Her fear was being absorbed by the Empath who swallowed thickly, trying to shake her awake.

"Allison!" Lydia was by her side in seconds, "Allison, wake up."

Malia growled slightly, hating to see her friend look so weak and vulnerable. She reached forward and sent a small smack to the girl's cheek, causing Harper and Lydia to both screech her name in horror.

However, despite the ethical issues of her method, Malia's idea had worked. They watched as Allison gasped awake, her chest heaving up and down as her hands scrambled for anything surrounding her. Harper quickly grabbed the woman's hand.

"You're okay," Lydia tried to reassure her above her heavy breathing, "Allison, you're okay. We're here."

Allison blinked in confusion. She tugged her hand away from Harper's and pulled up the tank top she was wearing, inspecting her stomach with a look of disbelief. Her dream had felt so real, but here her skin was— soft and unbroken, and all thanks to the Empath staring at her worriedly. 

"What's happening?" Harper asked, "Did you have a nightmare?"

"I died," Allison practically wheezed, a couple of tears falling from her brown eyes and rolling down her cheeks. "I died again."

All three women wore soft expressions as they stared at her, Harper quickly moving to sit beside Allison and take her into a hug. Allison rested her head on top of the shorter woman's head, closing her eyes and relishing in the fact that she could actually breathe.

Malia hesitated, "Do you normally have nightmares like that?"

Allison shook her head, "The last few days. I- I can barely remember that night."

Lydia and Harper exchanged glances, wondering if this meant something deeper than just a night terror. The strawberry blonde stood behind the couch and started to stroke Allison's hair in a reassuring manner.

"What did you see?"

"The Oni stabbed me again," Allison whispered, "And then I was in Scott's arms and he was crying. After everything went black, Harper was there. She told me she wanted to help me, but she couldn't this time."

Harper's face scrunched up in confusion. "What does that mean?"

Lydia sighed, "It probably has something to do with the fact that Allison only remembers you in the afterlife because you saved her."

"But what does it mean that I can't help her this time?" The Empath pressed further.

Malia shrugged, "You know, it probably means nothing. My dreams never mean anything."

Harper gave a short nod. That was true; not everybody's dreams had deeper meanings, but Harper always forgot about that. After all, she was able to resurrect her dead friend in one of hers and sometimes obtain injuries. She'd say her dreams definitely held some sort of significance.

"Does Scott know you've been having these dreams?" Harper asked.

Allison nodded as she sniffled, "Yeah. None of them have ever been that bad though. I've never woke up screaming."

Harper bit her lip. "I think this does mean something, guys."

Malia rolled her eyes.

Lydia shot a glare at the werecoyote, "Hey. I trust Harper. If she has a bad feeling, then we should at least explore it. It's better safe than sorry."

"Yeah, you're right," Malia sighed.

"But who?" Allison whispered, wiping her cheeks with the pads of her fingers. "Deaton went out of town a couple of days ago."

Malia pursed her lips. "I might know someone."

...

Harper climbed out of the back of Lydia's car, her tired eyes scanning the building in front of her. It was the Hale loft, owned by Derek Hale himself, but apparently Malia knew the person who lived next door.

"How do you know this person again?" Lydia questioned, glancing at the rundown house beside the block of apartments.

Malia slammed the car door behind her. "Deaton recommended him to me after I transitioned from a coyote back to human. He knows a few things."

The brunette felt a little more smoothed knowing that Deaton had personally mentioned this man to Malia. She trusted Deaton a lot; he had been there for her and her friends since the minute Scott was bitten.

She tucked her arm around Allison's waist and started to follow Malia and Lydia, knowing Allison was perfectly capable of walking by herself but offering her emotional support. She pushed some relaxing energy into the nervous woman, causing Allison to send her a small smile.

"You'll be fine," Harper whispered as Malia raised her hand and knocked roughly on the front door.

Everybody else winced as the noise echoed through the early morning atmosphere and Harper was almost sure that whoever this man was, he was not going to be pleased about being woken up at four in the morning. The sun hadn't even risen yet, Beacon Hills still resting and cold.

The door slowly creaked open about a minute later just as Lydia was about to suggest they try again later. A tired man opened the door, his hair a mess on his head and the bags under his eyes suggesting they had definitely interrupted him from some much-needed shut-eye.

"Malia Tate?" The man muttered, "What are you doing on my doorstep at this time?"

Malia sighed, "Sorry for waking you, but I need a favour."

The man's eyes flickered behind the werecoyote and to the rest of the women on his doorstep. He hesitated before releasing a heavy sigh of his own and letting them inside.

...

"What do you see when you have these dreams?" The man, whose name Harper learnt was Lenard, sat forward from his seat on the couch, clearly intrigued as he stared at the former huntress.

Lydia squeezed Allison's hand as she replied, "It's always the same thing. I'm back at Oak Creek and I think I've done it. I think I've saved Isaac and figured out how to kill the Oni, but before I can even react I'm being stabbed..."

Harper had not personally seen Allison's death from where she'd been trying to help Stiles who'd passed out, but Scott had sobbed the story to her after it happened when he'd woken from a nightmare of his own once.

"And I can't feel anything. And Scott's crying and I'm trying not to show I'm scared, and then darkness," Allison breathed shakily. "Just cold, dark, nothingness."

"And then what?" Lenard leaned forward further, acting as if this was simply a story and not a traumatic event for the woman who was on the verge of tears again.

"And then there's Harper."

"Who's Harper?"

"Me," the woman in question raised her hand before lowering it to shake his. "Um, I'm an Empath."

His eyes slightly widened and shook her hand more vigorously, "It's very nice to meet you."

"You too," Harper peeled her hand away after and subtly wiped it on her jeans, unsure of what to think of this druid who was clearly a massive fan of the supernatural. "Do you mind if I grab some water?"

"Go ahead. The kitchen's on the left and bottled water's in the fridge," he waved his hand at her before eagerly turning back to Allison and asking for her to continue.

The brunette moved from the couch and entered the hallway, a small yawn escaping her lips as she opened one of the doors on the left side, quickly finding the kitchen. Harper's eyes landed on the fridge and she opened it, grabbing one of the few bottles that he had stacked inside.

She leaned against the counter as she unscrewed the cap, her brown eyes squinting at a figure in the darkness of the garden. Harper's heartbeat picked up, a small gasp escaping her lips. She moved closer to the window, unsure if her exhausted eyes were deceiving her. However, much to her dismay, she was pretty sure what she was seeing was no illusion.

"What's taking you so long?" Malia's voice came from behind her, making Harper jump.

"Listen, am I going crazy or is somebody standing at the end of the garden?"

The werecoyote marched over to where a row of light switches were lined up on the opposite wall, pressing all of them until the one outside lit up. Harper almost gasped loudly when a scarecrow was revealed at the end of the garden, its body drooping and its clothes ripped and old.

"Who the fuck actually has scarecrows?" Harper held her hand over her thumping heart. "I almost had a heart attack."

"That's one creepy looking scarecrow," Malia agreed with raised eyebrows. "Hey, I didn't say Lenard was normal."

"Fair enough."

The Empath was more than thankful when Malia turned the outside light back off, but she shuddered at the outline of its body. Harper forgot her water bottle on the side and followed Malia back into the living room where Lenard was pacing around, his hand in his hair. He no longer wore the grin from before, in fact, he looked as if the world was about to end.

"What's going on?" Malia demanded.

"You!" Lenard suddenly whirled around and faced Harper, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You messed with fate! You never read the rest of the story, did you?"

Harper wore a horrified expression, having absolutely no idea what this man was talking about. Lydia and Allison were both staring worriedly while Malia looked confused and honestly pissed off at the man that was moving inches away from Harper's face.

"What story?" Harper breathed.

"The story of the Banshee and the Empath that brought their son back from the dead," Lenard growled, and Harper worried that the man in his fifties might start growing violent. "You acted impulsively! You didn't read into the consequences!"

"She temporarily lost her powers," Lydia defended her, "Those were the consequences."

"Nothing's ever that easy!" Lenard was practically tearing his hair out, clearly on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"It wasn't easy," Harper huffed angrily, "You realise I had dreams about my dead friend for two years and then almost died to bring her back?"

"Stupid, stupid girl," Lenard continued to mutter under his breath, backing away from Harper to continue with his pacing. "You've messed with fate."

"What does that mean?" Allison pressed, frustrated and scared. "What do you mean that Harper messed with fate?"

"The dead are supposed to stay dead," the man spoke, "That's how life works."

Malia rolled her eyes, "Welcome to Beacon Hills, dude. Thanks for no help whatsoever, we'll be going now."

She turned on her heel and started to leave the living room, the three other women following close behind. A hand reached out and grabbed Harper's arm, tugging her back. She stared into the insane man's eyes as he reached to place his hands around her neck, swiftly backing her up against a wall.

Harper gasped at the immediate loss of air, her hands trying to reach out to grab him or hurt him, but he held her too far away. Her feet scrambled to feel the floor beneath her, but she was too high up. Her eyes watered and her head felt dizzy as she heard a growl rip through the air, followed by a roar. 

"Let Harper go," Malia yelled.

"I'm doing what's right!" Lenard spoke, and as Harper looked into his eyes that never left hers, she could tell he was being honest. "I'm restoring balance to Beacon Hills before it comes."

Before either Malia or Allison could jump in and kick the man's ass, the sound of glass smashing filled the room and Lenard dropped the brunette woman. Harper gasped for air, coughing and choking as Lydia and Allison quickly ran to help her collapsed figure.

"Harper!" Lydia swiped the hair out of her face. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

Harper barely had time to process the strawberry blonde's words before she heard a voice that she hadn't heard in a very long time.

"This is the second time this week you've interrupted my sleep, and I am pissed."

Peter Hale growled before he marched to his neighbour and grabbed him by the throat just like he'd done to Harper, lifting him from the ground.

"Peter, no!" Lydia quickly screeched, "Don't kill him!"

The werewolf held his claws only inches away from Lenard's stomach, staring at his frightened face with merciless eyes. Everybody could tell that it was all the homicidal supernatural wanted to do; he loved the way revenge felt, especially if blood was involved.

"Give me one good reason," Peter spat, not peeling his eyes off of the man.

"'Cause Beacon Hills may be in danger, and he might be the only one that knows anything," the Banshee pleaded, watching as Peter hesitated.

"Peter," Malia warned slowly, and that seemed to be what did it for him.

The man jerked Lenard's head so that it banged against the wall; not hard enough to kill him, but hard enough to knock him out. Harper winced when she felt the dull ache in the back of her own head, her fingertips reaching up to ghost over her neck which felt as if it was on fire.

"Where did you come from?" Allison asked, bending down to help Harper off of the floor.

Harper clung to the taller woman as her eyes trailed to Peter. He looked just like he did seven years ago, just maybe a little tired and a tad bit greyer in the hair department. His blue eyes flickered around at the women in front of him until they landed back on the Argent who had asked the question.

"My apartment next door," he shrugged.

Malia rolled her eyes, "She means why did you come."

"Because I heard you all yelling," Peter rolled his eyes back at her, "And this is the second night in the past seven days that that man has woken me up because of screaming. Do you know how hard it is to sleep when you have supernatural hearing and an insane neighbour?"

"Wait, what was he screaming about?" Lydia asked.

"I don't know," Peter huffed, "Moths."

Harper's eyes widened, "Moths?" She repeated, her voice cracking from how badly her throat ached.

"Moths. And he was outside. He said they were on his son or something," the werewolf sounded disgusted as he discussed the neighbour he clearly had a strong distaste for. "I don't know. The man's batshit insane, that's all I know. Particularly when I'm trying to sleep."

"Lenard doesn't have a son," Malia shook her head.

"See?" Peter folded his arms. "Insane."

Harper seemed deep in thought for a moment. Before she could think too hard, a hand was being pressed gently to her back and she was forced back to reality. She glanced up at Lydia who's green eyes were staring at her worriedly.

"Your breathing is all wheezy," she told her, "We should get you to a hospital-"

"I'm fine," Harper shook her head, "I didn't pass out."

"Better safe than sorry," Allison sent a warning look, telling Harper to not even try protesting. "Besides, I can hear it in your voice, Harps."

Harper simply nodded, not in the mood to argue with her friends. "We need to talk to Lenard when he wakes, though."

"I doubt he'll want to see you again after he tried to kill you," Malia huffed, "And he's not stupid. He'll run once he wakes up."

"I know the perfect place for him," Lydia was pulling her phone out and holding it to her ear. "Stiles?" Harper's eyes widened. "Yeah, hi. Is the prison cell at the station free?"

The Empath bit down on her lip, staring at the unconscious body of her attacker as she wondered what the hell had made him so mad at her. Or, more importantly, what he was talking about when he said 'it' was coming to Beacon Hills.

And was it really her fault?


	9. Chapter 9

"Who is this?"

Stiles stared at the man who was sprawled out across the seats of the prison cell, unconscious. He was barely awake as he scratched the stubble on his cheeks and chin, his hazel eyes blinking tiredly.

Lydia's phone call had woken him at barely five in the morning. He'd been reluctant to answer at first, craving some peaceful sleep in the bed he'd owned as a teenager, but he guessed it must have been important since Lydia never contacted him anymore.

"Lenard," Malia spoke with distaste, "he's a Druid, like Deaton."

Stiles rolled his eyes at her short reply. "Okay, well, why did you need me to lock him up exactly?"

"We went to him about some nightmares Allison's been having," Lydia began, "He was okay at first, and then Allison told him about how Harper brought her back from the dead and he totally freaked out."

"Freaked out how?" Stiles frowned, now officially concerned as he stared between the two girls and the man locked in the cell.

Malia hesitated, "Freaked out as in screaming-and-strangling-Harper freaked out."

"Malia!" Lydia smacked the werecoyote's arm, appalled at how bluntly she'd delivered the news. 

They watched as the man's eyes widened and his posture seemed to falter, his arms unfolding from where they'd been against his chest staring at them expectantly. Now Stiles wore an anxious expression, clearly worried about the Empath who he'd just realised wasn't with them.

"He strangled Harper?" Stiles' jaw was clenched.

Lydia nodded with a sigh, "Not enough to do any long-term damage, I think, but Allison drove her to the hospital just in case."

"Why the hell didn't you start with the fact that Harper was hurt?" The Stilinski man reached to grab his jacket off of one of the hooks on the wall and threw it over his shoulders, swiping his keys off the desk.

"I'm going to the hospital," he tossed one of the key cards at Lydia who caught it. "That opens the cell door. But don't let him out unless the place is fucking burning down or something."

Both Malia and Lydia watched with soft eyes as Stiles marched out of the Sheriff's station, not even saying goodbye to any of the deputies who were on early morning shifts. As the door slammed behind him, the room rattled slightly and Malia released a low whistle.

"Damn," she glanced over to Lenard who was snoring, "Let's hope he doesn't wake up until Stiles has calmed down."

...

Wincing, Harper placed the icepack she'd been handed gently on top of her bruising skin. It hurt her to swallow or even talk to much, so she just offered a small smile to Melissa when the nurse entered the room with a bottle of water and some medicine. She placed it all down on Harper's bedside table.

"I understand that it might hurt to swallow, but the iBuprofen will help with the pain," Melissa spoke, taking the icepack from her daughter and unscrewing the bottle of water for her.

"Thanks," Harper croaked, taking the pills and the water before forcing them down.

Her eyes scrunched shut at the burning sensation and she wanted to desperately stop at the first pill, but she made herself take the second. Allison stroked her back from beside her and offered her a comforting smile as Melissa gave her the icepack back.

"You're free to leave whenever you want, Harper," Melissa said, "Just try to avoid trouble, please. Scott still stresses me out as much as it is."

Allison and Harper both giggled at the statement, waving goodbye to the nurse. Melissa smiled back to her adoptive daughter and her future daughter-in-law as she closed the door behind her. 

"I'm ready to go if you are," Harper spoke.

"Of course."

As the former huntress began to grab their stuff to get ready to leave, there was a knock at the door. Both women exchanged confused glances before it was pushed open, revealing Stiles Stilinski.

He looked exhausted as his eyes searched the room for Harper, but he found her perched on the hospital bed with an ice pack against her neck. His brows tugged into a frown as she offered him a small smile.

"Hey," she pulled the ice pack away to greet him, and Stiles could hear the strain in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Allison sent Harper a look before sneaking out of the door and closing it behind her, leaving the former couple alone. Harper knew exactly what her friend's glance meant and she tried not to blush as she made eye contact with Stiles.

"Malia said you were strangled," Stiles spoke as he moved closer to her, "So I thought I'd come and check on you."

The brunette sent him a smile. It was genuine, Stiles could tell. The whole thing felt kind of nice for the both of them; Stiles liked being there for Harper and Harper liked having Stiles there for her, and vice versa.

"I'm doing okay," Harper put the pack down on the table, Stiles' eyes narrowing at the bruises on her neck.

Her delicate skin had become home to a deep purple and red coloured handprint, somewhat faint but still there. He felt his heart skip a beat and his fists clenched, wondering how the hell somebody would want to hurt someone as amazing as Harper Verum.

"Are you sure? Do you need me to get you anything or...?"

Harper shook her head, "No, I'm fine, honestly. Just a bit confused about the whole thing. I have no idea what Lenard was talking about."

"What was he saying?" Stiles asked, moving to sit beside her on the edge of the bed.

The Empath shrugged, "It was stuff like 'you messed with fate' and that he was doing what was right by strangling me. He wanted me dead. Also basically called me dumb."

"He's locked up right now," the hazel-eyed man spoke, the anger rolling off of him and seeping into the supernatural beside him. "We'll get all of the answers out of him, don't worry."

There was a small silence as Harper stared down at her lap where her hands held each other. She bit down on her bottom lip when a larger hand moved to slide in between them, Stiles' slender fingers intertwining with hers and giving her hand a squeeze. He said nothing but stared at their hands too, the two of them enjoying the silence in the hospital room.

Without thinking much, Harper gently leant her head against Stiles' shoulder and allowed her eyes to flicker closed. His body heat and the empathic warmth that came from the feeling of happiness filled Harper with some joy of her own, her lips threatening to tug upwards into a smile. She felt his head fall on top of hers.

For a brief few minutes, they managed to be Stiles and Harper again.

...

"Jesus Christ, Harps," Scott muttered, delicately tilting her jaw so that he could see the bruises on her skin better. "You four should have called one of us before you set out like that."

Malia rolled her eyes, "We didn't think it was going to turn into attempted murder."

Harper peeled herself from Scott's light grip and stepped back so that she stood beside Lydia again. The strawberry blonde leaned into Harper a little bit, clearly a little pissed off with Scott's statement too.

"We can handle ourselves," Lydia grumbled, "We don't need the men looking after us like freaking babysitters."

Allison agreed, "We can protect ourselves."

"Harper got hurt," Stiles deadpanned.

"But she didn't die!" Malia protested, making Scott groan.

"She could of."

Harper huffed, "Okay, getting hurt was totally on me, alright? I don't exactly have any supernatural abilities that benefit me in a fight and I've had no reason to fight anyone in the past seven bloody years."

That was somewhat a lie; not only had Harper had to defend herself against Calum about a week ago, but some homeless guy had attempted to steal her bag when she walked home one evening back in the summer. He hadn't succeeded in his mission either; Harper had fought him off using moves she'd seen Allison do on multiple occasions.

"We had everything under control, Harper's just a klutz, is what she's trying to say," Malia added. 

Harper shot the werecoyote an offended look, but the short-haired woman just shrugged back unapologetically.

"Not that it's her fault that some crazy dude tried to strangle her," Allison huffed, folding her arms across her chest and turning to face the man that was sat in the cell a few feet away from them.

So far Lenard had been refusing to talk, a permanent glare on his face as he stared at the concrete ground. He'd glanced around the room only a couple of times, his gaze lingering on Harper longer than any of them especially liked.

He seemed to hate her for bringing Allison back from the dead and Harper guessed that she'd done something more than just do that- he said something was coming. Whatever that thing was, Harper wasn't sure. None of them understood why it had taken seven years for anything to happen now. Everything had been fine with Allison until now; she had a beating heart, a future, a present, a past.

"Yeah, it's this bastard's," Stiles grumbled so that he could hear before moving forward and banging his arm against the bars, creating a loud echoing sound. "Hey. You gonna talk now?"

Nothing. Lenard didn't even flinch.

"He said that we didn't read the rest of the story," Malia recalled, turning to Harper. "What story?"

"The one about the Empath and the Banshee's son," Lydia recalled, her green eyes widening. "Deaton explained it to us literally the day that Harper was shot and dreamt of Allison."

"So we read the rest of the story," Scott nodded firmly, "Where's the book?"

"Deaton had it, but he's out of town," Harper replied.

Scott thought for a second before his large hand was reaching behind him and digging through the pack pocket of his trousers. He found his keys and took off the one for the animal clinic, tossing it to Lydia. She stared down at it in confusion.

"For the animal clinic," the True Alpha explained upon noticing her expression, "Look for the book."

Lydia gave a short nod before looking to Malia who rolled her eyes but climbed from the seat she'd been sprawled across. Allison quickly grabbed her bag and tossed it over her shoulder.

"I'm coming too," she insisted, "I wanna know what the hell's going on with me as soon as possible."

Scott grabbed his fiance's hand before she could leave through the door, turning her around and sending her a pursed-lipped smile. Allison peered back up at him through her lashes, smiling too.

"Be safe," he muttered, pecking her lips. "I love you."

"I love you too," Allison replied softly before she was bounding off and out of the Sheriff's station behind Lydia and Malia, leaving just Scott, Harper, Stiles and the weirdo who wouldn't talk.

...

Harper's fingers typed at her keyboard, her brain whirling at a thousand thoughts per second as she tried to get down every single little detail. Just because she wasn't physically at work for the next few weeks didn't mean she was let off the hook completely. She tried to do as much work as she could while she sat on the other side of the Sheriff's desk, her laptop curled in her lap.

Stiles sat on the other side of the desk, a bored expression on his face as he threw a bouncy ball up and down, his legs sprawled out and his feet resting on the oak wood of his father's desk. Scott had left a couple of minutes ago, saying something about his suit tailor calling him back in urgently.

"What you writing?" Stiles eventually asked.

Harper glanced up from the bright screen for less than a second. "Emailing some clients. I've had this one teenage girl for about a year and a half now, but she's been signed over to another therapist while I'm away. I just need to make sure she's doing her homework."

"Homework?"

"Yeah, not, like, school homework shit. Like, in therapy we've been working on this irrational thinking model, and her 'homework' is to..." Harper sighed as her typing slowed to a stop. "I probably shouldn't tell you anything specific, y'know, confidentiality and stuff, but we're working on changing her thoughts to rational thinking and she just needs to work on that stuff outside of the therapy room."

Stiles simply nodded, not sure what else to ask. Harper seemed pretty deep in thought anyway as she typed away, and he didn't want to annoy or disrupt her.

"So the Empath's a therapist. How ironic."

At first, Harper thought she had imagined the voice, but when she glanced up she saw Lenard leaning against the bars of the cell, his hands wrapped around them so tight that his knuckles were white. His face was screwed up slightly as Harper and Stiles exchanged glances before looking back at him.

"Are you gonna talk to us now?" Stiles stood from his seat and moved over to the cell, looming over the shorter man by a good few inches.

Lenard glared, "Her. Not you."

Harper's eyebrows raised in surprise as she slid the laptop off of her lap and onto the desk in front of her, stacked upon piles and piles of paperwork that Sheriff Stilinski had yet to even start filling out. Stiles' head craned over his shoulder to look at her, his brows furrowed as he tried to determine what this man was playing at.

"Why?" Stiles questioned.

The man didn't budge or even look at Stiles.

"Why?" Harper repeated more forcefully.

"This doesn't concern him," Lenard said.

The hazel-eyed man crinkled his nose in distaste and threw himself down into the chair that Harper had previously been sat in so that he could watch them from behind the desk. He propped his feet back up and grabbed the bouncy ball, squeezing it as if it was designed to be a stress-coping mechanism.

"Is that your boyfriend?" Lenard's eyes drifted towards Stiles and Harper's cheeks almost burnt with embarrassment.

Stiles glanced up from the ball in his hand. "She's a little young for you, don't you think?"

Lenard acted like hadn't even heard Stiles while Harper chose to ignore his question. Harper moved closer to the cell, unsure of what to ask first.

"Why did you strangle me?"

Lenard laughed dryly, "To kill you, obviously. I don't think you realise quite how dangerous it is for somebody like you to be deciding who gets to live and who gets to die."

"I don't get to just pick who lives and who dies," Harper swallowed, "If that was the case then there would be a lot more people alive in this bloody town."

"The dead are meant to stay dead, you fool," The man spat, the venom in his voice making Stiles sit up straighter with a small glare. "Bringing them back creates a supernatural imbalance and Beacon Hills will suffer for it."

"How so?" Harper asked.

"Read the rest of the book," Lenard ordered, and she couldn't help but flinch at how much this man sounded like her insane father. "I should have known when I saw the moths. The moths always come first."

"So the moths mean something's coming?" The brunette spoke. "Something bigger. They're a warning, right?"

Lenard nodded slowly before he moved as close to the bars and started to whisper. "They're waiting for the bodies."

Harper's heart felt like it was in her throat as she blinked. "What bodies?" She whispered back.

Stiles watched them both in confusion, his brows furrowed as he stopped tossing the ball up and down in the air. He clenched it in his palm, concern running through his veins that Harper could feel from where she stood about ten feet away.

"I can't," his voice lowered even more, "It will hear me."

"What will hear you?" Harper's voice shook slightly, becoming raspier the more she spoke from where she'd been strangled.

Lenard didn't open his mouth again.


	10. Chapter 10

"He said that the moths were waiting for the bodies?" Scott repeated in disbelief, staring between his two best friends as if waiting for one of them to crack a smile and tell him that they were just joking.

They didn't.

Harper simply sighed as she nodded, her brown eyes looking exhausted from being up all night with Allison. She managed to tie her short hair back into a ponytail and she wore a cute dress, but that was the best anybody would be getting from her today.

"And Lydia, Malia, and Allison said they can't find the book," Stiles added, moving over to the laptop that was on the kitchen counter of his father's house where he was staying. "But Harper and I found something else."

Scott followed the pair, hovering behind Harper as he tried to read the blaring screen. Pictures of moths were on the side with hundreds upon hundreds of words written next to in it in a print so small that Scott wasn't sure he could be bothered to even attempt trying to process it.

"What does it say?" He asked.

Stiles replied, "It's basically an old legend. It's a story about how people in a town all started to die one by one, and by morning their bodies would be devoured."

"By the moths?" Scott shuddered.

Harper nodded, "Yeah, by the moths. But this is a fictional tale, it doesn't mean that's what's going on in Beacon Hills."

Stiles pointed his finger between them both, "But heavily implied."

The werewolf went silent as he processed what he'd just been told, sending a small nod in the direction of the dark-haired adults. Harper waited for his reaction, sensing only a lot of confusion from the McCall man. He scratched the back of his neck.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, "Deaton's not answering his phone, Lenard won't talk, and the girls haven't been able to find the book yet."

"Is this still the waiting game?" Harper glanced towards Stiles.

"We can't just wait for somebody to die," Scott insisted and Harper wanted to protest and say that's not what she meant, but he carried on talking. "If Lenard doesn't wanna talk, I have other ways of getting information out of him."

Stiles raised his eyebrows, "Torture?" He asked at the same time as Harper questioned, "Fear?"

They both looked at each other.

Scott flicked his claws, "I'm gonna go through his memories."

...

The Sheriff's station was bustling with life as the three adults pushed open the doors, finding Sheriff Stilinski himself stood by Parrish and demanding orders. Harper frowned as they walked over, the stress and anxiety rolling off of Noah in tidal waves.

"Dad, what's going on?" Stiles asked as he glanced around the department with a frown. "Did something happen?"

Noah sighed, placing his hand on his son's back and guiding him to the back of the station. He shut the office door behind Scott and Harper, sitting in his seat and running his palm over his forehead.

"You remember the man that kept calling in about the moths?"

All three best friends glanced at each other, thinking the exact same thing; perhaps they were about to get the first clue that would stop this waiting game they were stuck in.

Harper nodded eagerly, "Mr Henderson."

"Yeah, Henderson," Noah spoke, "Pest control finally bothered to show up at his house this morning. Except they didn't find any moths."

Scott swallowed thickly, sensing the direction that this conversation was leading to. "What did they find?"

"Henderson's body. Slashes across his chest, his face, bite marks into all his limbs. It's too soon to be sure, but they're thinking his body had been there for a few days," Sheriff Stilinski explained lowly, his blue eyes warning them.

Stiles frowned, "Was it an animal?"

"It had to be a pretty big animal," Noah muttered, "Some deputies are thinking it's a werewolf."

Since the discovery of supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills, they had managed to live in harmony with the humans. Everything went back to how it was before Gerard, Monroe and the Anuk-Ite. However, just as expected, some people still remained wary of the people with extraordinary strength and claws sharper than knives.

"Where's the body?" Stiles asked before seeing the startled look on his father's face. "Look, dad. We think something bigger is going on. The moths, Henderson dying. This is more... our department."

Stiles was convinced that he'd matured over the past years, and he had, but a small part of him had to admit that the idea of another supernatural mystery excited him. He could already feel his teenage self fist-pumping the air and he found himself eager to work beside his best friends again on something big.

Being an FBI agent was rewarding, but no case had been as rewarding as all of the times he'd managed to help his friends save their town against whatever supernatural threat had decided to rear its head. Stiles' hazel eyes flickered to Harper to see her reaction and her face was pulled down into a frown, her arms folded against her chest.

She was staring at his father with a hopeful glint in her dark eyes, and he knew that she needed this too. This was more than just a case for them, this was the chance for them all to bond again. This was a chance for the pack to glue itself back together from where it had managed to crumble apart and drift to separate parts of the globe.

Noah sighed in defeat and nodded, "Henderson's body's at the morgue."

"Thanks," Stiles nodded quickly before turning to his two best friends. "We should get there as soon as possible before they start running tests on it."

...

Harper hated how cold the morgue was. It reminded her of the time when she was seventeen and sacrificed herself to find out who the Benefactor was. Waking up on a cold slab surrounded by her loved ones had been utterly terrifying, and the number of tests she'd endured after made her stomach turn.

She ran her hands over her arms from where she stood in between the two taller men, all three staring down at Mr Henderson's body. A sheet was pulled up to his shoulders, his white skin even paler than before, dark circles around his eyes.

"An autopsy's going to be run on him in half an hour, so we don't have long," Melissa spoke as she tilted the old man's head, revealing what was left of his neck. "Look at this. I don't think a werewolf could have done this."

Harper grimaced, swallowing thickly and turning her head away to avoid throwing up. Scott was clearly startled, blinking as he moved forward with a frown. His fingers ghosted over Henderson's slashed neck, but he didn't touch. The brunette guessed he was trying to imagine his own claws in the man's neck.

"I don't think so, either," Scott muttered.

"Do you think it's whatever Lenard warned us about?" Stiles glanced to Harper who appeared dazed. "Hey, you okay? You don't have to be here if you don't want to."

Harper shook her head, "No, no. I'm okay. I... I think I can try something."

"Try what?" Scott's brows furrowed in confusion.

"It's something I found out I can do about two years ago," Harper murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she barely managed to remove her eyes from the mutilated body. "A woman, I never found out her name, was in this alleyway bleeding out. I found her."

Scott and Stiles exchanged concerned glances.

"She'd been mugged and shot, and I knew she was gonna die, but I had to help," the brunette continued, "I called an ambulance, but they always take so long in Manhattan, and I was trying to stop the bleeding. I had my hands on her stomach, applying pressure. I was trying to tell her everything was gonna be okay, but she still passed away."

Stiles noticed how Harper glanced down at her hands as if she could still see the blood on them. He wished he could take her into a hug right there and then, but Harper seemed to hold a newfound strength in her tone. It didn't wobble or crack like it would of if she'd witnessed this is a teenager.

"I stayed with her body until the ambulance arrived. But before that, I held her hand. And I could feel loads of emotions and see her last moments," Harper explained, "Well, I could see them, but not clearly. They were like blurry snapshots. I could hear her screams and feel her fear, and then I could feel the bullet through my own stomach. I relived her death."

Melissa moved her hand to the woman's shoulder and squeezed it, her brown eyes as kind and sympathetic as ever.

"Do you think you can do that for Henderson?" She asked.

"Do you think you want to do that for Henderson?" Stiles cut in, earning a confused look from the petite brunette. "What if you see or feel something traumatic?"

Harper sent him an uneasy smile, "I'll be okay, Stiles. If it even works. It's only happened once."

Hesitantly, she held out her dainty hand and started to edge towards Mr Henderson. She swallowed thickly as she touched his shoulder, but she felt nothing.

"Maybe try holding his hand?" Scott suggested, "Like you did with the woman."

Harper nodded at the idea and avoided his arms which had been slashed up to pick up his cold hand. She visibly cringed at the sensation but curled her fingers around his palm, and suddenly it was like she wasn't even in the morgue anymore.

She could hear the sound of a baby crying, and the immense fear that Henderson had felt before his death. Her heartbeat and breathing picked up as flashing images of him heading towards his front door filtered her vision. She heard his own screams above the sounds of flesh being cut into, and she felt the sickening pain in her body parts.

Stiles' eyes were wide when he heard Harper start to cry out in pain. "We should stop this."

He moved forward to detach their hands, but Scott grabbed him. "She could be seeing something important, Stiles."

"It's not worth it," the Stilinski man snapped and ripped his arm from the werewolf, grabbing Harper's hand and tugging it out of Henderson's.

Harper gasped loudly as she seemed to come back to life, her brown eyes snapping open. She quickly ran her palms across her arms and her stomach, releasing a relieved sigh at the fact that she was still all in one piece. Her body still seemed to shake a little, but she blamed the aftermath of Henderson's last moments.

"Are you okay?" Stiles quickly questioned her, his large hand moving to cup her cheek and force her to look him in the eye.

She noticed how soft his expression was, how concerned he was for her, and she couldn't help but move straight into his arms. Stiles appeared shocked at first, his frame tensing, but he returned the gesture nevertheless, his strong arms holding her tight and providing Harper with a sense of comfort and security.

"What did you see?" Scott asked when she was pulling away from her ex-boyfriend.

"Dude, give her a moment," Stiles scolded, "She's probably shocked."

Harper swallowed as she turned to face the True Alpha. "No, it's okay. I'm fine. But I felt everything. I heard a baby crying outside, and then Mr Henderson was answering the door. And then he was attacked inside his own home."

"By what?" Melissa demanded.

Harper shook her head, "I didn't see it."

"It's okay," Scott reassured her when he heard the guilt in her tone. "Did you say you heard a baby crying?"

The brunette nodded, "Yeah, I'm sure of it. It sounded like a newborn outside his front door."

"It's not uncommon for predators to lure victims out of their homes by using baby noises or injured animal sounds," Stiles noted.

"That sounds very human to me," Scott spoke.

Harper scoffed, "You didn't feel it. That thing ripped into him with no emotion whatsoever. It just kept going at it, it didn't stop or hesitate for a second."

Melissa hummed in agreement, gesturing to Mr Henderson's body. "Nothing human could have done this."

...

"Harper, I have something I need to tell you."

The brunette being addressed paused her movements, setting the kitchen knife slowly down on the counter and turning to face her favourite strawberry blonde. Lydia wore an anxious expression, immediately causing the smile on Harper's face to falter. She wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing.

"What is it?" Harper asked softly. "Are you okay?"

Lydia looked exhausted, her long hair pinned behind her and some of the mascara from her eyelashes printed underneath on her pale skin. Harper had found her asleep on the couch surrounded by pages and pages of research when she got home only half an hour ago after a long day with Scott and Stiles, so she decided to leave her there while she made dinner.

"I'm fine," Lydia murmured, an unsure look on her face. "But I'm not too sure Allison is anymore."

"What do you mean?" Harper frowned.

"At the animal clinic, she was looking through all these cabinets, and I put my hand on her back to move down beside her, but I had a bad feeling."

"A premonition," the Empath clarified, waiting for Lydia to nod.

Dread filled Harper and she took a step back, coming into contact with the counter behind her. She rested her hands on it and took a deep breath. Lenard's words were all coming back to her now, about how this was her fault. Was something going to happen to Allison because of her?

"She was dying, Harper," Lydia whimpered, causing the woman's heart to break further. "She was coughing up blood and Scott was begging her to stay with him. He was screaming at you to do something again, but there was nothing you could do..."

"Do you think she was murdered in this premonition?"

Lydia shook her head, "She was just in pain."

Harper's frown deepened and she took in the dazed, teary look in Lydia's green eyes. She quickly moved forward and took Lydia into a tight hug, her hand in her hair as she practically squeezed the life out of her. Lydia hugged her back, choking back a sob.

"I can't do it, Harper," she sobbed, "I can't lose her again. I can't lose anybody else again."

"I know, I know," Harper tried to console her, stroking her hair and pushing some relaxing energy into her while she was at it. "You won't lose anybody again, Lyds. I promise. We'll figure something out, Allison will be okay."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Harper."

...

When Lydia went to bed later that evening, Harper slipped out of the apartment and over to Scott's house, preparing herself to tell him what the Banshee had told her only a few hours ago. The sky was black but the air was warm, perhaps more on the muggy side. Harper didn't particularly enjoy this type of weather, it always made it feel like a storm was coming.

She sent the werewolf a text that she was outside to avoid waking Allison and moments later the front door was opening. Scott came outside wearing only his pyjamas, his feet bare as he did a small jog to the passenger side of the car and hopped in.

"What's up?" He turned to her worriedly. "You okay?"

Harper moved forward and grabbed his hand. "I'm gonna tell you something."

"You're scaring me," Scott told his best friend with an alarmed expression.

"It's about Allison," Harper's voice came out slightly quieter than before and she caught the shift in his eyes and the way fear pulsed through his veins.

"What about her?" He rushed.

"Lydia... She had a premonition-"

"No."

Scott refused to believe it, tugging his hand out of Harper's grip and shaking his head. Harper chewed on her bottom lip as Scott stared at his lap, not glancing up at her. He kept repeating that same word over and over again, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What was the premonition?" He finally turned to her, swallowing thickly.

"Lydia saw her die," Harper whispered, carefully waiting for his reaction.

"No."

"But we can do something about this, we can- we can-"

"We need to figure out what the hell Lenard was talking about," Scott spat suddenly and Harper was taken aback by his anger rather than sadness. "And if all this really is your fault like he says it is, then..."

Harper's eyes were wide. "Then what?"

"Forget it," Scott growled under his breath.

Harper reached out and grabbed his wrist before he could turn to leave the car. "No, go on. Tell me, Scott."

Scott's face grew dangerously close to hers. "You brought her back, but if all of this was just temporary then that's sick and twisted, Harper."

"Scott," his name rolled off of her tongue in disgust, "Do you even hear yourself right now? You think I'd bring Allison back and not tell you if I knew she only had so many years?"

"I don't know," the werewolf hissed, "You're always trying to play the hero, Harper. Maybe you thought you'd just do it in the moment, save the day."

Harper felt sick. She couldn't believe her own best friend and brother was saying this to her. It was like he didn't even know her, and at this moment in time, she sure as hell didn't know who he was. So much fury burned off of him that the air in the car was almost toxic for the Empath. She could feel herself growing worked up too.

Obviously his love for Allison was strong and unconditional, he was going to marry her for goodness sake, but Harper was still supposed to be his sister. He'd still known her longer and she'd still been there for him since day one. Yet here he was, acting like their friendship meant nothing where Allison was involved.

"Oh, I'm the one that always likes to play the hero, huh?" Harper laughed mockingly, "I have never ever done anything to hurt my friends. Ever, Scott. Not on purpose. You're the one that believed Theo over Stiles and I, you're the one who prioritised Allison over Stiles and I when you barely even knew her!"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Scott growled.

"I have every idea what I'm talking about! You're the one that's being clueless and a complete dick right now," Harper hissed back.

"You better pray Allison doesn't get hurt." Scott opened the car door, slamming it behind him so hard that Harper flinched.

She watched as he stormed back into his house, feeling her eyes start to burn with tears. The brunette blinked quickly in an attempt to get rid of them, but a couple fell onto her cheeks. Her shaky hand swifty reached to wipe them all away and she shuddered a breath.

"Asshole."


	11. Chapter 11

Beep! Beep!

A groan fell past Harper's lips as she turned over in bed, managing to become even further tangled in the bedsheets. Her eyes blinked open when the beeping of her mobile phone didn't stop. They felt dry and achy, most likely due to some of the crying she'd done last night.

Not only was she stressed about the current situation, but she was worried about Allison, and Scott didn't seem to particularly like her right now.

In an attempt to shut the beeping off, Harper's hand extended from her nest to smack down on the screen. For a second she thought she'd pressed decline until she heard the familiar, muffled voice of Stiles. She grabbed the device and put it on speaker, groaning out a greeting.

"Were you still asleep?" Stiles' judgemental voice came from the other end.

Harper yawned, rolling over. "Mhm. Sup?"

"I have news. I'm outside your apartment building right now," Stiles spoke.

The brunette seemed to jump alive at the sentence, her body lurching from its mini coma as she frantically looked around her. It was like one of those moments where you think it's the weekend but it's actually a school day and you have ten minutes until the first period. Harper gripped the phone tighter as she flung her legs out of the bed and moved into the bathroom.

She almost gasped at the sight of herself in the mirror. "Um," she spoke awkwardly down the phone, "Let me quickly brush my teeth and stuff. Let yourself in, the door should be unlocked."

"The door's unlocked?" Stiles didn't sound too pleased, "Please don't tell me you actually left the door unlocked when people are out getting murdered."

"People?" Harper repeated, frowning at the plural.

Stiles sighed, "That's kind of what I have to talk to you about."

Harper's heart skipped a beat and she nodded despite the fact that he couldn't see her. "Right. I'll be as quick as possible."

The brunette hung up before she took a look at the bird's nest on her head with a small pout. Her brown eyes were rimmed red from crying and she honestly looked out of it, like a character in a movie who was moments away from becoming a zombie.

Harper grabbed her toothbrush from the pot and began to scrub at her teeth, meanwhile stalking around the bathroom in the hunt for her face wash. She found the pink tube by the bathtub and grabbed it, finishing up with her teeth before spitting out the paste and hurriedly working on making her skin look more presentable.

She moisturised her skin and it already looked healthier, but she had more work to do. Throwing her hair into a ponytail for the second day in a row, the Empath put on some rosy lip balm and some BB cream alongside a coat or two of light mascara.

Harper looked like nothing had ever happened.

As she opened the bathroom door, she gasped when she came face to chest with a man on the other side. Stiles jumped back from where he'd been about to knock on the door, his hazel eyes widening at the short woman. Harper forced a laugh and grabbed his arm, squeezing it.

"It's okay, I'm not naked," Harper reassured him as she moved over to her wardrobe and grabbed out a denim dress.

Stiles took one glance at the tiny pyjama shorts and tank top she was wearing and thought that she might as well be. He almost blushed at the thought, shaking his head. After all, he'd seen Harper in far less before.

"Sorry," Stiles muttered, "You were taking too long."

Harper raised her brows at him as she set the denim dress down on the bed. "Seriously? I couldn't have taken any longer than fifteen minutes."

"That's a long time," Stiles protested, "Especially when I have very important information for you."

The brunette suddenly seemed to remember why she was here. He wasn't here because they were together or because he just wanted to see her, he was here because it was his job to be here. He had to let her know what was going on if they wanted to solve this new supernatural drama. She frowned and moved to sit down next to him on the bed.

"Talk."

"They found another body," Stiles told her gravely, "A woman around our age. Totally mutilated, just like Henderson."

Harper's hand moved to cup her mouth. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly."

"Maybe the wrong time to use that expression, Sti," Harper muttered, the nickname falling from her lips so casually that neither of them noticed. "This is like that story we found. I mean, kind of. Like, where the people of the town start showing up dead one by one."

Stiles nodded quickly, "Oh, it's exactly like the story we found."

"What do you mean?"

"The woman wasn't found alone, Harps," Stiles explained, "She had hundreds of moths on her. They were eating away at her body."

The petite woman froze. Stiles was right, this was exactly like the story.

"This is also like what Lenard said," Harper stood quickly from the bed. "How the moths come to collect the bodies. He was telling the truth."

"We need to get more out of him."

Harper chuckled bitterly, "For some reason, I think that's going to be easier said than done."

...

The polaroid that had been in the sun visor of Stiles' jeep was gone when Harper climbed into the vehicle. It was left open, void of the picture of the two adults as a couple in their teenage years. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, whether he'd just moved it or if he'd gotten rid of it, but deep down Harper knew it meant something to him. He'd never just throw it away as if it was nothing.

She smiled a little to herself as Stiles pulled out of the car park, the jeep merging onto the road to head towards the Sheriff's station. Harper glanced into the mirror in the sun visor and pulled the ponytail out of her hair, running her fingers through it until she was left with a presentable look. Stiles glanced over at her as she inspected her tinted lip balm, swiping some that had smudged from just above her lip.

"Getting pretty for Lenard?" Stiles joked, making Harper giggle.

"Oh, for sure. You know, I think he likes me?" Harper teased back, both of them knowing exactly how much the older Druid detested the brunette.

She wasn't sure if this was their idea of flirting or not. Harper had never really had to flirt with anybody other than Calum and he was the one that had done most of it anyway. With Stiles, falling in love with him had been such a natural and unexpected process. She hadn't meant to fall for her best friend, she just looked at him one day and realised she cared about him way too much.

Before Harper could get too lost in her own train of thought, Stiles' phone started to ring from his pocket. He managed to grab the device out and handed it to Harper without looking at the screen.

"Answer the phone?" He asked, not peeling his eyes off of the road.

Harper looked down and saw Malia's ID, quickly obeying Stiles' orders. "Hola, Malia," the petite woman answered, putting her on speaker.

"Harps, are you and Stiles together right now?" Malia asked.

"Duh, I have his phone," Harper replied, "We're on our way to the station right now. Lenard was talking about the moths the other day, so we want to know exactly what he knows."

"Okay, well we found the book," the werecoyote spoke, Harper's eyes widened as she exchanged a swift glance with Stiles. "Lydia's translated it, but we need you to both get here as soon as possible."

"Is it bad?" Stiles called regretfully.

Malia hesitated. "Just get here."

Stiles took a turn in the opposite direction of his father's workplace, going to Scott's instead. Harper was glad that the werewolf wasn't going to be there since he was off looking for Deaton. Apparently, the Druid wasn't answering anybody's calls and he was starting to get worried.

It's not that Harper was scared of seeing Scott, she was just thoroughly pissed off with him and even the thought of his face made her want to throw fists.

Harper bit down on her lip nervously for the rest of the ride, quickly jumping out of the jeep as soon as Stiles pulled up to the animal clinic. She moved to the door and pulled it open, hearing the familiar chatter of her friends as she moved to stand with them around the metal slab in the middle of the room.

"Hey," Stiles called as he entered the room a second later, "What's going on?"

"I translated it," Lydia pushed the book over so that Harper and Stiles could see. "I'm not sure how much sense this makes, though."

"Just tell us," Harper spoke.

"Okay, 'the son of the Banshee and the Empath was freed of the spirit and continued to grow weaker. Meanwhile, the spirit moved onto a more powerful host, this time with a new motive,"' Lydia read unsurely.

Allison looked at Harper expectantly. "Do you have any idea what that means?"

Harper's dark eyes bored into the metal table, her brows furrowed. "Read it again."

Lydia obeyed, this time pronouncing her words much slower than before. Harper tried to visualise everything she was saying, nodding along and thinking harder than she ever had before.

"Does that mean Allison is the son in this scenario, and she's possessed by something?" Malia questioned.

All of the memories that came along with the word 'possessed' came flooding back to Harper all in one go. She thought of her ex-boyfriend's body looking sick and pale, the purple that stained under his eyes as he smirked at her and pinned her against walls, asking for her to join his team. To hurt her friends.

She shuddered at the thought before suddenly freezing.

"What is it?" Stiles recognised the way her face had scrunched up- Harper had an idea.

"Um, okay, um," her hands whirled around as she tried to compose all her thoughts. "I think, and I emphasise think, that this is really bad."

Allison's face immediately dropped, her bottom lip faintly quivering. Her biggest fear was to die again, and nobody blamed her. The past couple of days had been really terrifying for the former huntress who was worried about the premonition Lydia had and the way she'd been having nightmares and feeling weaker in general.

"What do you mean?" The strawberry blonde asked Harper.

"Okay, do you remember that dream I had that made me go to Deaton in the first place?" Harper asked them all, Malia shaking her head. "Okay, well, basically, I had a nightmare where all my biggest fears came to life. My dad, Stiles dying, yadda yadda. But Void Stiles was also there, and he was strangling me. Allison saved me, and then she died again.

"I woke up with the bruises on my neck, 'cause my dream was partially true, right?" She glanced around at the group to make sure that they were still with her. "Deaton said I could bring Allison back because my dreams held truth to them."

"So how is this bad?" Allison hesitated to ask.

Harper looked at the girl almost apologetically. "When I was shot and dreaming, the person who told me to pick who to save... It was Void."

Lydia, Allison, and Stiles' eyes widened as they seemed to catch on to what Harper was saying, meanwhile Malia looked as confused as ever. She unfolded her arms from across her chest and huffed loudly.

"I'm sorry, but what does that even mean?" The werecoyote spoke.

"The son had a spirit in him," Lydia rushed to explain, "If Harper's dreams come true, and Void was in her head, then he must have actually been in her head, or at least part of him. He left her head and picked Allison as a host when Harper picked her. He tricked Harper."

"So the Nogitsune's inside Allison?" Stiles sounded nervous, and Harper couldn't blame him.

"Or it was," Harper looked over to the woman whose eyes were wide. "You're getting weaker, Ally. I think the spirit inside has grown strong enough to part ways and move onto the new host now..."

"The new host..." Allison whispered, "Do you think it's whatever killed Henderson and that girl?"

"I'll place a bet," Malia raised her hand slightly. "I'll also bet that this means the bitch will be ten thousand times harder to get rid of now."

Harper just sighed.

...

Scott's going to kill me.

Harper's mind was swarmed with guilt that was starting to feast on her brain. Her head was hung in her hands from where she sat on the couch in Sheriff Stilinski's living room. Stiles was sat in the armchair across from her typing away at his computer, trying to do all of the research he could before Scott arrived.

Not only had Harper brought back Allison for what she didn't realise was a temporary amount of time, but Allison had never been alive for the sake of just living again- it had been so that Void could grow outside of Harper's head in a real, breathing form. Allison was just a host and nothing more.

Adding to that, people were also dying: Henderson, the girl. They were being killed in the most brutal ways possible, their bodies mutated to the point of loved ones not being able to stand the sight of them, and it was because Harper had brought a demon back to life that had taken the form or something far more vicious than a teenage boy this time.

"Allison died to get rid of that thing, and I brought her back to life just for it to come back with her and kill her again," Harper whispered, Stiles glancing up from his laptop with furrowed brows.

He slowly pushed the lid down when he noticed the tears in her brown eyes. He moved over to sit down beside her, his large hand moving out and grabbing hers where he held it on her knee.

"What are you even talking about?" He murmured, his spare hand reaching to push some of her hair out of her face by habit. "This isn't your fault, Harper. He tricked you, just like he always tricked all of us. And Allison isn't gone yet, we can figure this out, just like we always do."

A tear fell from her eye and strolled down her cheek. Stiles tutted her quietly with a small sigh, the pad of his calloused thumb moving to wipe it away. Harper pushed her cheek further against his hand as he cupped her face, closing her eyes and relishing in the comfort of being close to somebody she loved.

"Scott's gonna hate me," she whispered again.

Stiles shook his head confidently as her eyes flickered back open. "Scott could never hate you, Harper. He loves you."

Harper swallowed, thinking back to the conversation she had in the car with Scott just last night. She wished she could believe Stiles, but Scott had made it clear that if she had anything to do with Allison dying then... Well, actually, Harper didn't know what Scott would do.

"No. Not when I've done this to Allison."

"You didn't do anything—"

"Sti, please," Harper mumbled.

"Please what?" Stiles spoke sternly, "Stop telling you that this isn't your fault? That if Scott's mad at you then he's the biggest dumbass ever? No! And even if it was your fault, these actions were carried out seven fucking years ago! Harper, we will work this out. I promise you."

The brunette's gaze flickered up to the man above her, her breath catching in her throat at their close proximity. With his palm pressed firmly against her face and their breaths practically mingling in the surrounding air, Harper felt something in her stomach stir.

Stiles' face grew serious too, his hazel eyes darkening as his thumb traced a pattern on her skin before he was inching forward. With her heart pounding hard in her chest, Harper leaned forward too. Their noses were almost brushing, and one more movement from either of them would result in their lips connecting.

"Kiss me," Harper whispered the very words she'd murmured before their first ever kiss, sparking memories for the both of them.

An overwhelming sensation of pure love surged through the Stilinski man and suddenly he was doing as he was told. Stiles leaned down and pushed his lips against Harper's.

Nothing had ever felt so right for the both of them as they merged, their mouths like two puzzle pieces that had been missing for far too long. Any traces of past flings or lovers were washed away with the taste of their other half, their bodies tingling and lighting up with nostalgia and pure satisfaction.

This was what they'd been dreaming of.

Harper's arms instinctively moved to wrap around Stiles' neck, leaning up onto her knees so that she was slightly higher than the man from where they sat on the couch. One hand gripped her hair while the other rested on her waist, pulling her body as close to his as humanly possible. She cupped under his chin, tilting his head even higher as his tongue traced her bottom lip.

She parted her lips for him, earning a low hum in the back of his throat. Harper's eyes had long since flickered shut but she almost wished she could see him right now, just to make sure that this was real. Stiles' kiss wasn't anything like Calum's, or Lydia's, or anybody else that had kissed her, it was far, far better. She wanted to stay like this forever.

Harper's dainty hand reached down and tugged at the hem of Stiles' shirt. He parted their lips to help her, his much larger hands wrapping over hers and guiding the white tee off of his body. As soon as the item of clothing was flung across the room, Stiles was trying to immediately reattach their lips. Their breathing was heavy, pants falling from their mouths as Harper's palms moved over Stiles' chest.

A lot could change in three years, and that was very apparent in Stiles' newly found muscles. Harper had always loved his body, even in their sophomore year when he was all skin and bone, but this was different, and she would be lying if she said she didn't like it. Her hands didn't stop touching him, moving from his toned chest to his biceps which bulged as he moved to grab her shirt.

Harper let him take it off, shivering as his slender fingers trailed past her soft skin. Before Stiles could reconnect their lips, Harper pressed her finger to his mouth.

"Upstairs," she whispered in a hushed pant, "Your dad could come home any minute."

Stiles chuckled, moving to grab Harper's body. She wrapped her legs around his waist with a small squeal of surprise, her hands going to the back of his head where she stared at him with wide, brown eyes.

"I feel like a teenager when you say that," he mumbled against her.

Ironically, Stiles looked nothing like he did when he was a teenager. His hair was far longer and fluffier, pushed off his forehead but hanging past his ears in a flattering manner. The scruff on his chin and cheeks made his face appear wider, and his shoulders were far broader.

Harper tugged at the back of his hair lightly. "Let's go to your old bedroom then."

He smirked, "Yes, ma'am."

...


	12. Chapter 12

Curse words slipped past Stiles' lips as his body fell off of Harper, the two of them both breathing heavily with their backs against the mattress. Thin layers of sweat clung to their skin as Stiles' hand rested on top of his beating heart, his veins flooded with adrenaline and euphoria.

He heard Harper shuffle beside him and tilted his head, smiling when she moved her head into the crook of his arm and his chest like she always used to do. His strong arm wrapped around her and held her even closer while she threw her arm over his torso, breathing slowly now.

Neither of them knew what to say to each other now. Stiles just felt so warm and content, he didn't want to move from where he was buried in his teenage self's bed, his ex-girlfriend who he was still so in love with wrapped in his arms.

"I'm having some serious nostalgia right now," Harper whispered, clinging onto him a little tighter and looking around the bedroom. "Our first time was here, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Stiles smiled slightly, his slender fingers moving to trace patterns on her bare skin. "I was so nervous, and you were so beautiful."

Harper felt her heart thump that little bit harder in her chest, nuzzling her cheek against his chest even further as if to hide her blush. A low chuckle made Stiles' body vibrate a little and Harper could feel it surge through her own body.

"You were pretty," Harper spoke tiredly, moving so that her chin was resting on him and she could look into his honey eyes. "You still are, just kind or more handsome than pretty now."

His eyelashes were still so long and dark, his nose still like all button-like and cute. He peered at her with pure admiration in his eyes. She liked that he never once protested the way she described him in a more stereotypically feminine way, even when they were much younger.

"You think I'm handsome?" Stiles hummed, brushing some hair away from her eyes. "Hmm, tell me more."

Harper giggled and moved to brush their noses together, a soft gesture they used to do. Before Stiles could press his lips to hers, the sound of the door opening downstairs filled their ears and caused them to both freeze. Harper rolled off of Stiles' body and pulled the covers over her as she tried to hunt around the room for her clothes.

She found her pants and her bra and wiggled them on, followed by the jeans she'd been wearing. Her brown eyes flickered about for her shirt before remembering exactly where it was.

"Stiles," she hissed, interrupting him from where he was halfway through pulling his trousers up. "I left my top downstairs."

Stiles nodded quickly and flung open his chest of drawers, finding dozens of his old clothes. He picked out the one folded neatly at the top and threw it to Harper who caught it effortlessly and pulled it over her head. She glanced at herself in the mirror and almost scoffed at the Star Wars print, tying the front into a knot to make it less baggy on her small body.

"Stiles?" They heard Scott's voice from downstairs. "You here?"

Shit, Harper thought to herself. Just the person I didn't want to see right now.

"Just coming!" Stiles yelled back, before turning to Harper who was fixing her hair. "Hey, you're gonna be fine, okay? I won't let him get mad at you."

Harper nodded as he opened the bedroom door and she followed him down the stairs. As they turned the corner into the living room they found the third member of the trio stood with his back to them in the living room. Scott turned around when he heard their footsteps.

"Sorry," Stiles scratched the back of his neck. "Harper was just helping me with something."

The werewolf clearly didn't believe him, his brown eyes lingering on the shirt that Harper wore for a little too long. Thankfully, he didn't say anything, he just cleared his throat and nodded.

"I found Deaton," Scott announced, "Well, Isaac and I found Deaton."

"Isaac's here?" Harper blurted, Stiles also shooting him a confused look.

"Yeah, early for the wedding," the werewolf responded.

"Well, is Deaton okay?" Stiles asked, "Where was he?"

Scott shrugged, "Out of town on a business meeting but he chose not to let everyone know, obviously."

Stiles frowned, inching forward to Scott. "You okay, dude? You seem kind of off."

"It's a full moon tonight," The McCall man responded, "Having the whole pack in the town's amplifying everything. I'm not used to it."

Harper's brows pulled together as she thought. Maybe Scott didn't mean everything he said last night, maybe it had just been the full moon approaching that was talking.

"I also found out my fianceè's dying," Scott spoke numbly, turning his attention to Harper.

Her face almost crumbled at his words and she felt her heart heat with anxiety. The feeling of guilt was a sickening one, an emotion that managed to take a physical toll on the Empath. She almost wanted to cling to Stiles' arm to stop her feeling so dizzy.

"Scotty," Harper whispered, "I didn't know. You gotta believe me."

He clenched his jaw. Stiles moved to stand in front of Harper slightly, his hand on Scott's chest as he gently pushed him back.

"Dude, she's telling the truth," Stiles glared slightly, "Try and think rationally about this, Scott. This is Harper."

"I'm thinking that the love of my life is about to die again," Scott spoke painfully, his voice breaking. "What would you do, Stiles? What would you do if the love of your life was dying?"

Stiles swallowed, shaking his head. "Scott, stop. We're gonna figure this out, buddy. Okay? Like we always do."

Scott closed his eyes for a few seconds. "Deaton thinks he knows what's going on. We need you two in the animal clinic."

He said nothing else and started to walk away, opening the front door and slamming it behind him so that the whole house rattled. Harper bit down on her lip, exchanging a look with Stiles.

"It's the full moon," he assured her. "He'll be more understanding in the morning."

Harper gave a small nod, although she didn't believe him. "Let's go. We should see what Deaton knows."

...

The Star Wars t-shirt sat on Harper's shoulders smelt like the cologne that Stiles used to wear when he was a teenager. She had almost forgotten the scent, but catching a whiff of it as she jumped out of the jeep had brought back so many different memories and emotions that she'd frozen in place for a second.

She came back to life when the man himself moved around the other side of the vehicle, sending her an uneasy smile. Stiles almost offered her his hand, sensing the nerves radiating from the Empath, but he didn't want to make a big scene in front of their friends. They weren't even officially together.

"You okay?" He asked her.

Harper forced a small smile. "Yeah."

For the second time that day, Harper pushed open the doors to the animal clinic and made her way inside, Stiles so close behind her that she could feel his body heat. As she made it into the operation room, she found their friends surrounding the metal table, this time with Isaac Lahey and Dr Deaton.

She momentarily forgot about the situation when she saw the other man that was technically also her brother. Isaac's face was home to some scruff too and his hair was a lot shaggier and a bit longer, just like Scott and Stiles'. He sent a smile when he saw the petite woman enter the room, immediately opening his arms wide.

"Harper," he cheered quietly, squeezing her frame before smiling at Stiles behind her. "Stilinski."

"Lahey," Stiles nodded back, keeping up the teasing act that they both hated each other.

Honestly, that couldn't be more than true. During their teenage years, especially around the time that Isaac had first been bitten by Derek, Stiles definitely despised the taller werewolf, and the feeling was mutual from Isaac too. However, the more they matured, and the more they saved each other's asses and the rest of the packs', the more both realised they had more in common than they thought. There was no point in hating each other.

"Good to see you both," Isaac smiled, his hands on both their shoulders before he caught a whiff of their scents on each other and raised his brows.

None of my business, Isaac had to remind himself.

Besides, little did Harper and Stiles know, everybody could smell it, aside from Lydia, Allison, and Deaton of course. But Lydia could tell; she could always just tell with these kinds of things. The strawberry blonde held a smirk on her face as the three adults walked back over to join the rest of their friends.

"Now that we've got the reunions all over and done with, maybe we should concentrate on the real issue here," Scott practically grumbled, causing the smiles to leave everybody's faces.

"Right," Stiles cleared his throat and nodded, looking over to Deaton. "Scott says you might know something, doc?"

"I've been doing some research," Deaton agreed, "The translations that Lydia found are correct."

Allison swallowed thickly, "So the Nogitsune was inside me the entire time?"

Scott's palm moved to her shoulder and he squeezed it, shifting to stand closer to his fiancee. Deaton sent them a small nod.

"I'm afraid that the passage was a trick," Deaton answered, "The Banshee and the Empath were tricked, as their son was merely a host for the demon that had killed him. Whoever Harper picked in her dream was going to end up with the same fate, you just happened to be the one picked. The Nogitsune took advantage of this and moved from Harper's head to your body."

"How was the Nogitsune inside Harper's head in the first place?" Lydia questioned, "I thought when Scott bit Void Stiles that he killed it."

"My best guess is that it was because of how weak Harper was when the Anuk-Ite was in Beacon Hills," Deaton cast his eyes towards the brunette woman. "And perhaps due to the bond the Nogitsune had to Harper."

"Bond?" Malia frowned, confused.

"Void wanted me on his side," Harper explained, an edge to her tone that suggested her memories were not too pleasant. "Because I was an Empath and he fed off of fear."

Isaac folded his arms across his chest. "Okay, so how does knowing this help?"

"We know the demon has a new motive," the Druid replied, "It's left Allison's body now that it's strong and taken the shape of something far more powerful. Something bad enough to completely mutilate its victims."

"So we need to find out the motive," Stiles realised.

Scott nodded. "Figure out the motive, find out how to stop it."

"Save Beacon Hills," Allison added.

"One problem," Malia spoke up, "How the hell do we figure out this thing's motive without it slashing us up like Henderson?"

Malia had a valid point. Personally, Harper didn't want to go anywhere near whatever host the Nogitsune had taken over now that it was free again. She'd felt everything that Henderson had experienced, and she didn't want to die like that. She didn't want any of her friends to die like that. 

"I have a plan," Deaton spoke, filling Harper with some sort of relief.

"Thank god," she muttered under her breath.

"But it involves you, Harper," the Druid added.

Spoke too soon.

Harper had to admit that she was nervous for whatever he was going to say next, but she knew whatever task he gave her, she'd have to complete it. Not only did she feel responsible for everything going on, but she would do anything for her friends anyway.

"What do I have to do?" The Empath asked regretfully, a soft frown on her face as her arms unfolded from across her chest.

"Do you remember the ice bath ritual?" Deaton asked.

"How could we forget?" Stiles scoffed sarcastically, "Kind of made us all go crazy for weeks."

"Sending both you and Lydia in might be our only chance at figuring out this demon's motive without physically confronting this thing," he explained further.

"Is that what the Banshee and the Empath did in the book?" Lydia murmured, his green eyes slightly wide with obvious nerves.

Deaton shook his head. "No, they tried to fight the demon."

"What happened next?" Allison asked.

"They died."

"Oh."

...

Two metal bathtubs replaced the table that was usually in the centre of the animal clinic. They were filled up halfway with cold water and now Scott and Isaac were going back and forth with bags of ice, filling them up to the brim.

Harper stared at her tub with hesitant brown eyes, clearly not sure about the whole situation. She'd seen Stiles, Scott, and Allison do it themselves about eight years ago now, but the idea of being temporarily dead and then confronting an angry demon didn't really seem too calming to her.

Despite not being an Empath, Stiles sensed the anxiety inside Harper. He moved closer to her and grabbed her hand, gently leading her over to the corner of the room like she'd done to him before he'd gone in the bath. She sent him a pursed-lipped smile, trying to appear calm and collected.

"It's okay to be scared," he murmured, "I was terrified too."

"If I remember correctly, I was the one that was scared for you, Stiles," Harper joked weakly, "You just wanted to get in the bath and save your dad."

"Okay, well, that was the adrenaline," Stiles squeezed her hand, "And 'cause I didn't want to make you worry even more. And just for the record, I am totally not okay with this," he waved his hand over to the set up taking place. "If I had it my way you'd be wrapped in bubble wrap and far, far away from the clinic."

Harper managed a small laugh this time, squeezing his hand back. She found her dark eyes narrowing on his lips, in need of a kiss of encouragement. As Stiles started to lean down, Malia grabbed Harper's wrist and tugged her away.

"Are you sure about this?" She asked the Empath worriedly. "How do we know Deaton isn't just setting us up to kill you and Lydia?" Her eyes widened and she gasped before moving closer to Harper to whisper. "Maybe he's the host and this is a trick."

"Awe, Mal," Harper couldn't help but gush. "Lydia and I are gonna be fine. Allison, Scott, and Stiles have done this before. Not long before I met you in Eichen, actually."

"If you're sure," the werecoyote hesitated to nod, a suspicious glint still in her eyes as she glanced over at Deaton who was talking to the three men.

Harper moved to where Lydia was taking off her jewellery at one of the countertops and started to unbutton her jeans. She peeled them off of her legs and folded them neatly, untying the top around her waist so that it fell all the way down to her thighs, covering her underwear fine.

"You don't have to get naked, you know," Allison spoke up from beside them both.

"No way am I getting in the water wearing jeans," Harper protested, "Do you know how uncomfortable that would be?"

"I'd be more worried about dying," Lydia shrugged.

"Is that why you're taking off your earrings?" Harper teased.

"These are expensive," the Banshee whined as she placed them down. "Give me a break."

Allison suddenly raised her eyebrows, a knowing smirk crossing her features. "Is that Stiles' shirt?" She moved closer to the brunette, lowering her voice.

Harper almost blushed, her small hands moving to the end of the material. "Maybe, maybe not."

Before either woman could tease the Empath even more, Deaton called their names, alerting them that he was ready whenever they were. Harper's hands dropped from the soft cotton and she started to move over to the bathtub placed beside Lydia's. Lydia also looked quite nervous.

"Just to clarify," Harper swallowed as she looked at the ice water, "We're going to try and talk to this thing?"

Deaton nodded, "But it might not be as straightforward as it sounds. You may not get to talk to it directly."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The brunette frowned.

"Is it like how we weren't told where the Nemeton was?" Scott looked to Deaton for confirmation. "We were all just sent back to the past and we had to work it out based on our experiences."

Harper nodded slowly, kind of understanding what the True Alpha was trying to explain. She leaned down and dipped her finger in the water as Lydia began to ask more questions, quickly pulling it back with wide eyes. She heard a low chuckle behind her and turned to see Stiles watching her in amusement, his arms folded across his chest.

"Cold?"

"Duh."

"Okay," Deaton interrupted them loudly, gathering both of their attention. "Like last time, you're both going to need an emotional tether to pull you back. Allison, you go with Lydia. Scott, you go with Harper."

Deaton must have been alerted about the breakup of the couple three years ago now, but clearly he had failed to see the way that they had been joint by the hip for the past week. Stiles tensed at the druid's words, hating the fact that Harper had been his emotional tether all those years ago, but he wasn't hers now.

Harper's eyebrows were tugged down into a frown and she glanced at Stiles. Scott was staring between the former couple, waiting for one of them to say something.

"A-Actually," Harper cleared her throat, "I think Stiles is my emotional tether."

Stiles' eyes softened at this, his arms falling to his sides from where they'd been wrapped in front of his chest. He was fully prepared to let Scott be the one to do it. After all, he was not only her alpha but her best friend since the age of nine and adoptive brother. Plus, they'd actually maintained a relationship over the past three years, unlike Stiles and Harper. He knew it would have definitely still hurt to watch, though.

Deaton pursed his lips and nodded with a small smile. "Of course. Whenever you two are ready."

Harper looked over to Lydia who was already bent down, her hands on the tub and a nervous expression written across her face. The brunette turned back to her own bath and hesitated before lifting her foot, closing her eyes immediately as it sunk into the freezing water.

It felt like thousands of knives were stabbing at her skin as she placed her second foot into the water, her hands clenching the sides of the metal as she shivered. Small whimpers escaped her lips while Lydia was gasping beside her, the two of them slowly lowering themselves until they were sat inside.

"Bloody hell," Harper whispered, forcing her hands off of the sides and placing them in the water too.

All she wanted to do was to jump back out of the tub and wrap herself in a thousand blankets, preferably with a nice fire nearby, but this was her fault- she had to do this. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth together, trying to stop them from rattling so much.

When she felt Stiles' large hands clamp down on her shoulders she instantly felt more comforted, despite knowing that meant she was about to go under. He rubbed soothing circles with his thumb on her collarbone, his face stricken with guilt.

He glanced over at Allison whose hands were on Lydia, and when the nod came from Deaton, Harper and Lydia were drowned.


	13. Chapter 13

Harper's brown eyes were wide as she grasped the rim of the bathtub and lurched herself out of the water. She was gasping to breathe, begging for the air to fill her oxygen-deprived lungs. Lydia's laboured breathing came from beside her and she turned, seeing the strawberry blonde frantically pushing her long hair out of her face.

Blinking, Harper realised that they were in a white room. It stretched for miles and miles, the bright lights on the ceiling almost making her eyes hurt. She swallowed and climbed out of the bath, her barefoot smacking on the floor that matched the rest of the room. Stiles' Star Wars t-shirt was drenched and hung off of her small frame, creating drops of water on the floor.

"What is this place?' Harper whispered.

Lydia turned around in her spot, a breathy gasp escaping her pale lips. Harper hesitated to turn around, gulping at the figure stood further away. Squinting her eyes, Harper realised that whatever it was, it was well over six foot tall, slender and had a hat covering most of its face. Perhaps the most horrifying part were its hands, which were long and home to claws that dragged along the floor below.

"What the fuck is that?" Harper swallowed.

Lydia didn't reply but started to head in its direction. It wasn't moving, thankfully. Harper was sure that it was just some sort of statue- it radiated zero emotion. But then again, so had the Nogitsune. Harper reached forward and grabbed the Banshee's wrist.

"Lydia, what if it hurts us?"

Lydia shot Harper a look. "This isn't real, Harper. Our real bodies are back in the animal clinic, okay?"

That sort of comforted the anxious Empath. She knew her friends were watching over them, making sure they were safe. They'd never let anything happen to the two women.

"Okay," she nodded, feeling as Lydia's hand snaked to hold hers.

Harper sent her a grateful smile, which was more of a pursed-lipped kind of thing. The green-eyed girl's fingers squeezed Harper's as a comforting gesture before they slowly started to head towards the creepy figure. When they were less than a hundred feet away, Harper's breath hitched in her throat.

"It's a scarecrow," she muttered, "Like the one that I saw outside Lenard's house."

Lydia gave her a confused look but didn't pry for any more details, more captivated by the appearance of the thing. The closer they'd got, the more horrifying it looked.

The dark ripped clothing it wore barely hid its skeleton-like body and loomed over the two women with such height that Isaac Lahey would be jealous. A hat barely shielded its hollow face. As they stopped in front of it, Harper was able to see that it had empty white eyes and cracks across its skull, as well as its ribs being broken and sticking out in places.

"You think this is what murdered Henderson?" Lydia whispered.

Harper's eyes cast down to its claws, memories of the sensations she'd experienced filling her brain. This definitely looked like it could have been the cause, but she was still confused. What the fuck was this thing, and why did the Nogitsune possess it?

"Maybe," the petite brunette responded, "Now what?"

Lydia didn't reply. She stared at the scarecrow-like figure for a couple of seconds before her hand stretched out and brushed the brown jacket hanging loosely on its body- or lack of. Her green eyes suddenly widened and she seemed to be some sort of trance.

"Lydia?" Harper panicked, shaking the girl.

The Banshee didn't budge. Harper quickly realised that this must be part of seeing whatever Deaton wanted her to see and she hesitantly copied Lydia's actions, her fingertips ghosting the wooden arm.

She blinked and Harper was stood against the wall of the basement of Eichen House. In front of her, Harper could see her teenage self talking to Void Stiles, Oliver's body no less than six feet away from them on the floor. He was untying her wrists from where the patient had restrained her.

"Harper, Harper, Harper," Void murmured under his breath before his eyes finally moved up to meet the teenage girl's.

Harper remembered exactly what she'd been thinking in that terrifying moment. After watching him knock Oliver out with a drill, she was worried he was about to snap her neck or something.

Void chuckled, "I wouldn't do that to you." His hand fit into the nape of her neck and started to rub her jaw with his thumb. "You're too important to the both of us."

Harper grimaced at the sentence. She felt sorry for her teenage self who looked like she was about to burst into tears any minute. This was one of the worst experiences of her entire life, despite everything she'd been through afterwards. Even now it killed Harper to see Stiles look so bad.

Teenage Harper's lips quivered. "What, so you can read minds now too, huh?"

"I like you," Void Stiles chuckled again, shaking his head. "And I see what Stiles likes so much about you, too. You're a special one, Harper Verum."

She swallowed thickly. "Let him go."

"No can do," he released her, moving onto the other wrist. "This is my game, little dove. And since your friends are in a little team now, I decided I would like a player of my own. The most valuable of them all." He moved next to her ear. "The Empath," he whispered, dragging his lips down her cheek and causing her eyes to snap shut. "Consider this," he stood up. "You feel everything and I take it from you. We wreak havoc together. We'll be winners."

Harper watched as her teenage self gulped and shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears. Void snickered at her, pacing so that he stood in front of her. He placed both of his hands on the armrests either side of her body as if to pin her there, lowering his body so that his face was inches above hers.   
"Stiles is never coming back, little dove," he promised, "I'm the closest you're ever going to get to him. And I'm your only chance of getting out of this place before Brunski finds you."

"Don't cry," Harper whispered to her past self as the tears fell from Teenage Harper's face.

"That's right," Void whispered to the small brunette, "Stiles is watching right now. Begging me not to touch you."

His hand stretched out and wrapped around Harper's neck, not hard enough to hurt or choke Harper, but enough to scare her.

"This is what you didn't want, wasn't it, Stiles?" Void muttered before a smirk crossed his pale features. "Oh. He doesn't like that."

He released Teenage Harper's neck and shifted to look up at the ceiling. "They're coming for you now, and we can't have that, can we?"

He drummed his fingers over the wood of Harper's chair as she found the courage to speak. "W-Where are you taking me?"

He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the chair. "I need you to win. Sorry about this part, little dove."

The real Harper gasped as she watched his elbow move back before driving into her temple and knocking her out, her body slumping unconsciously against him. She knew that the next thing she remembered she was waking up in the preserve and being found by Sheriff Stilinski.

"I assume you're confused," Harper heard from behind her, causing her to turn.

The Nogitsune stood there in its bandages and leather jacket, its breaths heavy and laboured as they escaped the sharp deathtrap that was its mouth. Harper swallowed nervously, taking a step back. While Harper had encountered Void Stiles on many occasions, she'd yet to have a one-on-one experience with the Nogitsune- and she thought she'd never have to.

"A bit," Harper admitted, "Why was I shown that?"

The Nogitsune moved a little closer, causing Harper to take a step back.

"Still scared of me?" He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his bloodied mouth twitching up into a small smirk. "Even after all of these years, little dove?"

Harper's heart pounded in her chest, but she knew this was happening for a reason. She tried not to flinch as his bandaged hand moved to cup her cheek, but she ended up closing her eyes, a small whimper escaping her lips. She felt like she was a teenager again, but not for any good reason. This was one of her worst fears.

"Open your eyes," Stiles' soft voice whispered and she found herself obeying.

Void Stiles stood in front of her, looking like the spitting image of her teenage boyfriend. His hair was gelled up like before, his face skinnier and his body more lean and narrow. Harper stared in amazement, her lips slightly parted.

He chuckled darkly. "It's good to see you again too, little dove."

Just like that, he had her shrivelling away from him, his hand disconnecting from her cheek. Harper couldn't stand the nickname he'd given her. She knew doves symbolised peace, purity, and love, but she didn't know why he wanted that to be associated with her when he only loved chaos, strife, and pain.

"I must say," he tutted, "You've aged beautifully."

Harper resisted the urge to gag at his words. She wanted to sass back some sort of statement about how it had only been a few years and she hadn't even changed too dramatically, but this was not the time nor the place. She had more important issues at hand rather than trying to one-up this demon.

"Why am I here?" Harper demanded to know.

Void rolled his eyes at her. "You want to know my new motive, right?" He moved to slowly circle her, making Harper feel like she was in an ocean full of sharks.

Harper nodded unsurely. "And whatever the hell that scarecrow-thing was."

His lips twisted into a smirk, his high cheek bones only rising further. Harper clenched her jaw, trying not to appear intimidated by him. He had the upper hand and he knew it, but the brunette had to keep reminding herself that this wasn't real.

"The scarecrow-thing," he repeated with a chuckle of amusement. "The scarecrow-thing is more bloodthirsty than any creature Scott McCall has ever fought against. A little bit of mountain ash won't get rid of this thing like it did the Anuk-Ite. It's an unstoppable creature."

"I don't think so," Harper whispered as he turned his back on her.

He froze, turning around to her with a slightly furious expression.

"I know your game, Void," Harper spoke more confidently this time, realising she had him captivated by her words. "I remember all of the times you told me you were unstoppable; how nobody could kill you. And then we killed you. You're a liar, and a coward, trying to get under our skin."

What sounded like a low growl escaped Void Stiles' mouth and he suddenly had the smaller woman pinned up against the wall. Harper flinched as her back hit the wall behind her, almost knocking the air out of her lungs. If he couldn't hurt her... why could she feel this? Why could she feel his breath on her face as his hazel eyes glared at her angrily.

"If I'm such a liar, then why am I here, little dove?" He spat. "Clearly you didn't do a very good job at killing me." He released her and backed away, extending his arms outwards. "I mean, look at me! I'm more powerful than ever!"

Harper watched with wide eyes as he started to morph right in front of her. Stiles' pale skin and dark eyes were sinking away, revealing a skeleton that suddenly grew in height. She blinked and suddenly it was 'the scarecrow-thing' standing in front of her. It lifted one of its hands, subsequently running his long claws across the cemented floor of the basement.

"One touch," its voice was low and sinister. "And your life is over."

"That's your motive?" Harper's voice shook no matter how much she willed it not to, her neck craned upwards to look at the thing. "Revenge on the pack for killing you?"

"Why would I kill Henderson if that was my motive, huh?"

Harper was suddenly gasping for air, her body lurching forwards. It was pretty trippy when her hands clasped the edge of the bathtub and water started to run down her body, the familiar sight of the animal clinic instantly calming her nerves from where her heart was hammering erratically inside her chest.

"You're okay," Stiles' voice was right in her ear before a large hand was on her back. "You're okay," he repeated quieter, helping to guide her out of the tub.

Harper was clinging onto his arm for dear life, her brown eyes wide and her hands shaking so much that Stiles knew something had happened. She kept swallowing thickly, as if trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. The Stilinski man was faintly aware of Allison helping Lydia out a few feet away, but his main focus was on Harper.

Scott seemed concerned too, grabbing a few towels off of the counter and handing them to Stiles who wrapped them around Harper. The werewolf hovered, waiting worriedly for the Empath to say something.

"I'm gonna be sick," she spoke quickly, the panic clear in her tone.

Her grip on Stiles' arm grew tighter as Scott grabbed a bucket nearby, one that they used to wash the smaller dogs in sometimes. He pulled her hair off of her face the best he could, ignoring the freezing water that trickled down his skin as Harper lurched forwards and started to throw up. Scott exchanged a concerned glance with Stiles.

"It's okay," Stiles tried to soothe her, rubbing her back. "You're okay."

She forced a nod once she'd finished emptying the contents of her stomach, a grimace on her face. The brunette wiped her mouth with the back of her mouth, blinking quickly as if to clear her mind from all of her thoughts.

The Empath tucked her head into Stiles' chest, her wet hair and body soaking through his tee. He shivered slightly but only held her tighter.

"What happened?" Malia demanded once Harper had seemingly calmed down.

"I saw it," Harper shuddered, "First I was back in the Eichen basement, right after Void had knocked Oliver out and he was getting me out of the restraints."

Stiles' lips parted at the memory, or lack of. The part before that had been so vivid, he'd recalled the noise of the drill as Oliver moved closer to Harper's head, so close to killing her. He'd been screaming at the Nogitsune who was taunting him, telling him to let it in. Then, he had.

After that, it was slightly blurry. He was getting used to being held hostage inside his own head, just able to process that it was his body and his voice that was scaring Harper. The longer he was possessed, the clearer all of the memories got. The occasions after that were so damn clear that Stiles still had nightmares about them sometimes eight years later.

"And after Void knocked me out, the Nogitsune started to talk to me. Like, the real me. It could see me," Harper continued to explain, pushing herself from Stiles' chest. "And it transformed to Void and told me that the thing was basically instructable."

"Is that everything?" Deaton questioned with a frown on his face.

Harper shook her head. "He turned into it," her voice grew quieter.

"What did it look like?" Allison asked.

"A nightmare," Lydia swallowed from where she was wrapped in her towel, making everybody look over to her. "I only saw it at the beginning, when it was like a statue."

"When it was alive..." The Empath shook her head at the strawberry blonde. "It was so much worse. It has these claws that are so long they drag on the floor... it's like a skeleton mixed with a scarecrow, and it's almost seven foot tall."

Scott watched her speak with a nervous expression, his brows furrowed. "A scarecrow?" He repeated.

Lydia nodded. "It wore a hat that covered most of its face, but its cheeks were hollow and it had milky white eyes."

Isaac wore a disgusted face, shaking his head. "Hell no. Nope. Nopity nope nope nope. Fuck that."

"Shut up," Malia groaned, smacking the taller man in the chest before turning to face Lydia. "What did you see?"

"A graveyard," Lydia responded, "That's it. I was in some graveyard and it was misty and I was just wandering around aimlessly."

"Nothing else?" Stiles pushed, waving his arm about. "No names on the stones? No voices? Nothing?"

Lydia glared slightly. "That's what I said. Nothing else."

"Maybe it means we're all gonna die," Malia shrugged.

"Malia," the Banshee sent her a warning look. "Don't say stuff like that."

Allison was clearly rattled by the werecoyote's bluntness, her brown eyes slightly wide as she leaned her head against Scott's arm.

"What?" Malia whined, "It's a possibility."

"Deaton, do you know anything?" Scott turned to his boss as an attempt to avert the conversation away from the packs' deaths. "Does what Harper and Lydia described sound familiar to you?"

"Not at all," the Druid admitted with a shake of his head. "I'll have to do some research into it."

"Thank you," the True Alpha spoke sincerely, although he was not sure what he was going to do next.

...

Harper was deep in thought from beside Stiles, thinking back to the night where she'd gone to Lenard's and saw the scarecrow in his garden. It might not have been connected, but surely checking it out was better than nothing.

The brunette moved off of the couch and over to one of the counters against the wall. She grabbed her keys off of the side and examined herself in the mirror, running a hand through her hair.

"Where are you going?" Stiles frowned, twisting in his seat so that he could see her properly.

"Lenard had a scarecrow in his back garden," Harper told him, "And I know it might be a stretch, but that thing really creeped me out when I saw it. Even Malia said it was creepy."

Stiles scratched his chin and climbed from his seat. "I don't trust that guy. I'm coming."

...

Malia huffed as she wriggled about with the lock on the back gate of Lenard's garden. When it didn't budge, she rolled her dark eyes and lifted her foot, kicking the lock so that it broke. Stiles and Harper watched with raised brows, although they weren't too sure why they were still surprised by the werecoyote at this point.

"Okay, we're in," Malia breathes before pushing the wooden door open.

The garden was messy, a little greenhouse in the corner with dozens of different dead plants inside. The watering can beside it had been tipped over and weeds grew around and on top of it, sticking out of the loose soil.

Harper's head whipped around in confusion, eyes landing in nothing but dead grass, weeds, and soil. Not a scarecrow was in sight.

"There's nothing here," Stiles stated the obvious.

Harper huffed. "I know that. Malia, tell me I didn't imagine that thing? There was a scarecrow there that night, right?"

"There definitely was," Peter Hale's voice grunted from beside them, causing them to turn quickly.

Harper's hand moved over her mouth when she saw the state of the werewolf. Blood caked his features and his shirt had been torn to shreds, revealing ripped flesh. He was breathing heavily, but he was clearly more pissed off than he was mad.

"What the hell happened to you?" Malia grimaced at her father.

"The freaking scarecrow," Peter pointed to a spot in the soil that was dented. "I knew that man was insane! He was always ranting about moths on his son!"

Stiles' brows furrowed. "His son?"

"The scarecrow!" Peter spat, "If that's what you could even call it."

"It attacked you?"

"No, I did this to myself," Peter smiled sarcastically, making Stiles glare. "Yes! Of course it attacked me!"

"Where is it now?" Malia asked urgently.

"It got away," Peter growled.

The werecoyote's face fell but she hesitated, her gaze lingering on her father. Her shoulders sagged in defeat and she moved forward, holding the back of his arm.

"We should get him to the hospital," Malia insisted, "He's not healing."

"I will," he attempted to push the slightly shorter woman away, but she just sent him a flash of her blue eyes, silencing him. "Fine."


	14. Chapter 14

Malia decided to stay with Peter at the hospital while Melissa took care of him. She always pretended that she didn't care about her father or whatever happened to him, but everybody knew that she did- at least deep down. Everybody knew Peter would be fine though; he had this rare talent of never actually dying.

Despite Lydia suggesting that the scarecrow in Lenard's garden probably wasn't related to what was going on, Harper wasn't ready to give up her idea just yet. She pushed open the doors to the Sheriff's station, sending a small smile to some of the deputies that she still recognised.

Harper gave a short knock to Sheriff Stilinski's office door and pushed it open, finding the man inside flinging his jacket over his shoulders. He beamed over to the young woman, genuinely delighted to see her face here.

"Harper, what can I do for you?" He asked as he started to shuffle pieces of paper and put them in his draw. "I was actually just about to leave."

The brunette smiled back. "Oh, that's okay. I was just coming to ask Lenard some questions, actually."

Sheriff Stilinski raised his eyebrows with a scoff. "Good luck getting anything out of him," he said, "Stiles stayed up most of the night last night with Scott interrogating him."

"Well, maybe he'll talk to me," Harper shrugged.

"Maybe," Noah shrugged before grabbing his keys. He spun them around on his fingers by the chain and then stuffed them into his pocket, patting her shoulder as he moved by her. "Good luck. Call if anything happens."

"I will do," Harper nodded, heading to the back where the prison cell containing the older man was.

"Hey, Harper?" Stilinski called before her hand could twist the knob, causing her to pause in her tracks and turn back around to face him. "I was wondering if you wanted to come over to dinner tonight? I've missed having you around. You were like a real daughter to me, you know."

The Empath's lips stretched into a wide grin that took up most of her face and she nodded eagerly. "Of course, I'll be there tonight. Thank you, Noah."

Noah didn't say anything but smiled back, leaving through the door and closing it behind him. Harper turned back and moved into the back room, her eyes immediately landing on Lenard who was slouched against the corner, his head in his hands. Maybe Harper would have felt some sympathy for him if he wasn't purposefully keeping information that could save lives.

"This is a violation against my human rights," he glared up at her as soon as he heard the soft pads of her feet over to his cell. "Just you wait until I get out of here and tell everyone what kind of operation Stilinski is running here."

Harper rolled her eyes. "Yeah, wait until we tell everyone their family members are dying because you won't tell us what the hell is going on."

Lenard huffed at that, folding his arms across his chest. He looked paler than the last time that Harper had seen him and his eyes were home to dark circles.

"You like gardening, Lenard?" Harper asked casually, moving over to the water fountain and filling one of the plastic cups up with water.

He watched her with a suspicious glint in his eyes like he was afraid she was about to hurt him or something. "What the fuck kind of question is that?"

"What happened to the scarecrow in your back garden?" Harper asked a different question, studying him intensely for any mood changes.

She felt a prick of fear. It was so slight that she almost thought she'd imagined it. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip and his nose curled up. He wasn't going to answer her question.

"Okay," the brunette spoke slowly. "What happened to your son?"

Anger raged through Lenard's veins and he seemed to snap, his entire face scrunching up in fury. He was suddenly darting at the bars like a rabid dog, his hands wrapping around them like they'd done Harper's neck around a week ago now. Harper barely flinched, satisfied that she'd managed to actually get a reaction out of the monotone man.

"Don't talk about it," Lenard seethed.

"Why?" Harper glared back with just as much intensity. "It's the scarecrow, isn't it? Your son?"

"Stop!"

"So what are you? Some kind of Dr Frakenstein?" Harper pushed, "Did you build that thing? The scarecrow mixed with the skeleton?"

Lenard was almost shaking with anger, his nostrils flaring. "Shut up! You're making it mad!"

"What mad?" Harper exclaimed, "What is that thing?"

He didn't answer but started to pace the small perimeter of the cell. Harper shook her head at him, her anger melting away and all she felt was disappointment. It always felt like she was on the verge of getting something useful out of him, and then he goes and does shit like this.

"Fine," she snapped, "Stay here and rot for all I care. You're not coming out until you help us."

Harper didn't spare him a second glance before she stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her and leaving Lenard all by himself, weeping into his own arms.

...

Harper chewed at her bottom lip, fully aware of the twinge of metallic blood against her tastebuds. She didn't stop. Her brows were furrowed in confusion and she could practically feel herself going insane as she googled and googled and googled.

When the pack were teenagers, they had a routine: supernatural disaster, small break, supernatural disaster, small break and so on. They were never given more than a six months break, but after seven years they were bound to be rusty. Nothing seemed to come quite as easily as it used to, and Harper hated herself for it. Stiles had called her up and told her that another man had died last night, a few doors down from Peter.

Lydia was with Allison somewhere, the two of them planning something for the wedding that was apparently still happening. Harper didn't really blame them for trying to pretend that everything was normal. She wished she could too, but when she felt like all of this was on her- that all of this was her fault- she couldn't think of anything else.

Harper realised time was getting on when she'd been reading conspiracies of creepy scarecrows for almost two hours and she quickly hopped in the shower to freshen up. She put on her makeup and a nice dress and curled her short hair into the same beach waves she used to wear every single day. Harper spritzed some perfume and pulled her shoes on before climbing into the car and heading over to the Stilinski house for the dinner she was promised.

Nothing strange happened on the way over, but by the time Harper arrived on the doorstep she found herself with butterflies in her stomach. Despite being an Empath, she couldn't decide if it was because she was nervous or excited. Perhaps a little bit of both. It had been a while since she'd sat down with Stiles and Noah and had dinner. They used to do it a lot after college when they had their little apartment on the edge of Beacon Hills. Some nights Noah would come over for dinner, and other times Harper and Stiles would be invited over there.

She knocked on the door and waited for it to open, the aroma of burnt food hitting her nostrils as soon as it did. Harper forced a smile and tried not to cough, watching as Sheriff Stilinski tried to wave the air around him with a tea towel.

"Well, that was a disaster," he laughed, opening the door wider. "Last time I try and cook something new."

Harper giggled. "Maybe stick to being Sheriff, huh, Chef Stilinski?"

Noah laughed with her, patting her back as she practically led the way to the kitchen inside the house she knew off by heart. Stiles had his back to them as he coughed, waving his hand in front of his face and putting some pans into the sink filled with soapy water.

He turned around, smiling wearily at them both. "Maybe we should just order in?"

Harper's face lit up, and both men immediately knew what she wanted.

"Chinese!"

...

One large meal and a couple of fortune cookies later, Harper had found herself on the couch next to Stiles, her hand resting on her full stomach as she watched the TV lazily in front of her. Stiles was watching it too, a beer in his hand that rested on the arm of the couch. Noah had fallen asleep in the armchair a long time ago, snores escaping his lips.

The brunette raised her own beer to her lips and took a swig. She wasn't too fond of the bitter taste, preferring cider or anything else actually, but it was all Sheriff Stilinski had unless she wanted to drink neat vodka, which she didn't. After a couple of parties in college that resulted in throwing up and migraines, Harper couldn't stand the taste of the spirit anymore.

"I went to see Lenard today," Harper sighed, causing Stiles to glance over quickly and grab the remote, turning down the show that they'd been watching, or in Harper's case, half-watching.

"Anything new?" Stiles didn't sound too confident.

Harper shook her head. "I don't think so. I questioned him about the scarecrow in his garden, and how Peter said he called it his son. He basically had a meltdown and said I'd made it angry."

"So he's scared of this thing?"

"Isn't everybody?" Harper shuddered, thinking about the sound his claws had made when he picked them up off of the ground. "I asked if it wanted revenge on the pack for killing it."

"What did it say?" Stiles frowned, leaning up higher as he became more interested.

"He said he wouldn't have killed Henderson if that was his motive."

A small silence went by and suddenly Stiles was jumping up from his seat, nearly knocking over his bottle of beer. He told her to follow him and was then bounding up the stairs. Harper raised her eyebrows but followed behind eagerly, wanting to know what he'd figured out from just that single sentence.

Harper wandered into Stiles' old bedroom which he'd walked through, finding his evidence board set up again. His old whiteboard one was long gone, so he'd had to do what he'd done in his sophomore year and pinned everything to his walls. Different colours of string were everywhere, but mainly red. Harper remembered what that meant.

"What else did he say?" Stiles scratched his chin as he looked between the quick sketch Harper had done of the scarecrow-thing and also one she'd done of the Nogitsune. Her talent was so impeccable that he'd shuddered the first time he'd seen them.

"Nothing," Harper answered, her eyes scanning the board. "Then I woke up."

"Okay, so that must be significant," Stiles pointed at the picture of Henderson that was linked to moths and his house. "Henderson's death was planned and there was motive behind it. It wasn't just some bloodlust-fueled attack."

"Okay..." Harper wasn't quite up to date with the FBI agent who was working everything out as he spoke, not moving his eyes from the board.

"What do we know about Henderson?" His finger trailed up the string to his house.

"His house was built on top of the supernatural graveyard," Harper whispered, her eyes quickly widening.

"And the moths- the moths come to collect his body as the scarecrow mutilates it," Stiles points to the moths. "I think Henderson was killed because of the graves under his house."

Harper bit her lip. "So the scarecrow has something to do with the graveyard?"

Stiles quickly nodded and moved over to some sheets of paper on his desk, grasping some with detailed writing that had been printed from online. The scene in front of her almost reminded Harper of when he'd tried telling Scott he was a werewolf for the first time.

"The Beacon Hills Massacre of 1913. All supernaturals were killed and buried after the Sheriff's wife was killed by what everybody thought was a werewolf."

Harper nodded for the millionth time. "I remember Malia or Lydia telling us."

"Okay, read the fifth paragraph."

'Stood on guard every single night was a supernatural himself, also a former deputy of Beacon Hills' Sheriff Station. Once it was exposed, the Sheriff put the deputy in shackles and forced him to watch over the graveyard day and night, no matter the weather. The children of the town would abuse the deputy in hundreds of different ways, some brutal enough to be considered torture. The supernatural deputy died one stormy night from unknown causes, his body left to sink into the wet mud.'

Harper swallowed.

"What does that sound like to you?" Stiles' hazel eyes were burning into hers as she lowered the pages.

"A scarecrow."

...

Harper rubbed at her eyes as she chucked herself into the seat beside Lydia and opposite Allison. The former huntress had ended up sleeping over last night since she'd gotten so far with Lydia about last-minute wedding preparations, and apparently was an early riser. The Empath yawned, refraining from glaring at Allison who was smiling way too happily for seven thirty in the morning.

Harper shovelled cereal past her lips, glancing over at Lydia who somehow looked like she'd been awake for hours. Reaching back, she felt the messy bun that had fallen from the top of her head and grimaced. She was definitely going to have a bird's nest to brush out.

"So, how was dinner with your boyfriend and father-in-law-" Allison coughed, "- I mean Stiles and Sheriff Stilinski."

The brunette almost blushed, moving her Frosted Flakes around with her spoon. "Stiles isn't my boyfriend."

Lydia raised her eyebrows. "Okay, how long are you two going to wait this time? 'Cause last time, Stiles waited sixteen years to tell you how he felt."

Allison hummed in amusement. "Thirteen years left to go then."

"Yeah, you'll only be thirty-eight," Lydia added.

Harper rolled her eyes at the pair's joke, although she wore a small smile of amusement as she fed herself another spoonful of cereal.

"So, obviously we slept together a couple of days ago," Harper spoke as if it was no big deal, but both Allison and Lydia broke out into massive grins. "Don't act like you two didn't already know."

Allison sighed blissfully. "You can't blame me. I thought you two were already dating when I first got to Beacon Hills. I've shipped you guys since, like, day one."

"No, Scott's shipped them since literal day one," Lydia giggled. "Meanwhile, I used to call Stiles 'Miles'." All three girls laughed, even though Harper felt slightly sorry for her teenage boyfriend.

"He still holds a grudge, by the way," Harper replied lightly before getting back to her story. "Anyway, so, yeah, we slept together. We kissed last night too, just a peck on the lips when I said goodbye. But nothing's official yet."

"Yet," the taller brunette emphasised.

"That's the best part!" Harper flung her hands out. "I kind of feel like we're just teenagers again... pining over each other, but this time we know the other one feels the same. Like, before we got together and then the supernatural spice got way too spicy and we were stressed as fuck."

"Supernatural spi-?"

Allison cut Lydia off with an awe. "I get that! That's so cute, Harps."

"Okay," Lydia rolled her green eyes at the two brunettes. "But what happens after the wedding? We all know you two are gonna make it official sooner or later. Are you just gonna go back to Manhattan?"

Harper's throat tightened, the smile drifting from her face. "Huh," she shrugged. "I didn't think about that."

There was a small silence as Allison and Lydia watched her worriedly, seeing that she was deep in thought.

"Stiles is more important than my job," Harper admitted as she glanced back up from the table. "And I love Beacon Hills far more than I could ever love Manhattan, even if this place is one massive supernatural disaster."

"So what I'm hearing is you'd want to make it work with Stiles?" Allison wiggled her brows.

"Of course!" Harper exclaimed, "I couldn't explain to you guys in words how much I've missed him for the past three years. It's been like hell and then suddenly we're both back and it's like... everything's okay again." She beamed. "I don't just want to make this work, I need it to work. And I'm nearly a hundred percent sure that he feels exactly the same."

"Of course he does, it's Stiles."

...


	15. Chapter 15

Harper's eyes snapped open abruptly, her chest heaving for air as she pushed herself up from the mattress. She blinked quickly, her mouth dry as she felt around her in the darkness, finding nothing but an empty bed. The short-haired brunette flung her arm over her eyes, a small whimper escaping her lips as she recalled the nightmare she'd just endured.

Her heart rate was irregular and hurting her chest so much she almost thought she was having a heart attack. Harper knew she could go next door and wake Lydia, but right now that wasn't who Harper needed. The woman pulled the covers off of her sweaty figure and moved over to her temporary wardrobe, pulling out a jumper.

She shrugged it on and grabbed her car keys off of the vanity before leaving the apartment. The darkness surrounding her as she headed over to the car parked nearby made her heart only pick up, bringing back memories that caused her to flinch. As soon as she was in the car, she took off in the familiar direction of a certain Stilinski's house.

Sheriff Stilinski's car wasn't parked in the driveway when she pulled up, so she guessed he was still working late at the station. The living room light was glowing despite it being almost two in the morning, so Harper just knocked on the door. She wasn't a teenager anymore- there was no need for her to sneak through Stiles' bedroom window.

The door opened seconds later, revealing a very confused-looking Stiles Stilinski. His long hair was even fluffier around his face from where he had been laying down and he clearly hadn't shaved that morning, a shadow around his chin and up his cheeks. Stiles seemed surprised to find Harper on his doorstep so late at night, his hazel eyes softening.

"You okay?" He noticed the way her bottom lip was trembling slightly and moved aside so that she could step into his warm home. "Hey."

He held her arm before she could retreat all the way to the living room, gently pulling her back to look him in the eye. As soon as brown met hazel, Harper began to tear up again, throwing herself against his larger frame. Stiles held her back immediately, releasing a small sigh and stroking her back in a comforting gesture.

"What happened, Harps?" Stiles asked softly, his other hand cupping the back of her head and making her feel safe.

"I had a nightmare," she breathed against him and he immediately understood. "A really bad one."

Even during college and after, the members of the pack all suffered the PTSD of their teenage years. It was inevitable, especially for Harper and Stiles who were very much still in touch with their human sides and had suffered so much.

Stiles remembered the last time he comforted Harper during a nightmare was a couple of weeks before their breakup and it had been tough- he had to hold her as she screamed in her sleep, waking up the people next door. 

"You're okay now," Stiles promised her quietly as she pulled away from him.

Using the pads of his thumbs, he brushed away some of the tears that had fallen down her rosy cheeks and sent her a half-smile. Harper swallowed thickly, moving to gently hold his wrists as he cupped her face, both studying each other's faces as if this was the last time.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He whispered.

"It was my dad," Harper replied, which Stiles knew was a reoccurring pattern for her nightmares. 

She dreamt about the days she was locked in Eichen being tested on again and again while he dreamt of when he was possessed by the Nogitsune. Occasionally, Harper would have the dream where she was shot at the Sheriff's Station, and Stiles also often had nightmares of the Ghost Riders taking him forever. No matter how much time went by, their teenage years refused to leave them. And while they had been the best years of their lives, they'd also been traumatic at times.

Harper's hand travelled up Stiles' wrist to hold the back of his hand, delicately guiding it towards the back of her head and making his fingers touch there. Stiles felt a tiny dip in her skull and frowned, feeling his heart get caught in his throat. He knew that was where Valack had drilled a hole into her head all those years ago.

"Can you feel it?" She whispered, making him nod slowly. "Whenever I dream about those days... I can feel it in my dream. I can feel my dad hurting me again and again..."

Stiles blinked, peering at her past his dark lashes. He wished he could take that sad look off of her face, erase all of the bad shit that had happened to her when they were just kids. He wished he could take back so much stuff, like all of the petty arguments that had lead to their breakup. But he couldn't.

He guided them over to the couch and let her rest her body against his, her arms wrapping around his torso and her head resting on his chest. He stroked her hair, planting a small kiss to the top of her head.

"You know... I still have nightmares about the Nogitsune," Stiles spoke quietly, not stopping the movement of his hand. "Last month I had two on the same night. It never gets any easier."

"You just find new ways of coping," Harper agreed.

"I smoked to cope sometimes," Stiles admitted, "I always felt guilty whenever I finished a packet. Thought of you. Or whenever I heard a British accent on the TV. Or that band you used to like- The Neighbourhood."

He noticed Harper glancing up at him with shining eyes and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ur, point is... I thought about you a lot."

The brunette swallowed and tightened her grip against him, feeling his heart thumping gently against her ear. On the topic of guilt and thinking about Stiles, no particular memory came back to Harper, but a person did.

She felt her hands get clammy, knowing that if he was behind so raw and honest with her, then keeping back what she was thinking wouldn't do them any favours.

She pulled back away from him, staring into his eyes. "Did... Did you ever have another girlfriend?" She hesitated to ask, trying to ease them into the topic, but she was genuinely curious too.

"No, no girlfriends," Stiles replied immediately, "I... I had a couple one night stands, but they were never really my thing... Guess I'm one of those disgusting people that has to be in love to enjoy it, huh?" He sent her a lopsided smile that almost made Harper burst into tears at the purity of the man in front of her.

Her forehead dropped into her hand and she shook her head. "Stiles..."

"I know," he said softly, but his voice sounded a little strained as he grasped her wrist and pulled it away so she was forced to look him in the eye. "And it's okay. We were broken up. You don't have to feel guilty now."

The Empath could feel the twinge of hurt in his body though and it hurt her that she had unintentionally hurt him. She shook her head and squeezed his fingers.

"On the topic of guilt... I couldn't do anything with him that didn't make me think of you," Harper said, and she knew that had satisfied the dark-haired man a little. "You were the best I ever had, Stiles. I didn't... I didn't love him."

Stiles stayed silent for a few moments, his hazel eyes flickering to look at their intertwined hands rather than her eyes. He could tell that she was telling the truth.

"What made you two break up?" He asked, his usual curiosity getting the best of him.

"I... We... I just never fell in love with him, you know?" She became flustered when she realised Stiles wouldn't know what she was talking about and cleared her throat. "Um, well, I guess I always just compared him to you. He was nice enough- at the start- but he just wasn't... he wasn't you."

"What do you mean 'at the start'?" Stiles questioned, sensing the hesitation in Harper's voice- and it was written all over her face.

"When I got Allison's bridesmaid proposal in the mail, I told him I was gonna come home maybe a week before the wedding and he got all jealous, insisting I was going to meet up with you. He said stupid stuff and I tried to kick him out and he was just being a huge dick," Harper rambled, her words slowing as she bit her lip. "And then he hit me."

Stiles froze. He definitely hadn't been expecting Harper to say that. He pulled his hand away from hers as his fists balled up, feeling his blood run cold and his jaw clench. His hazel eyes were firey as they shot back up to stare into Harper's concerned eyes. She ran a hand down his arm.

"It's okay, it's okay. I dealt with him. He came off way worse than I did," Harper's words were meant to provide comfort, but just like with Scott, Stiles didn't seem to feel the slightest bit better.

"He hit you," he repeated in disbelief, studying her face as if the bruise would come up, but there hadn't been one to show in the first place. "Your boyfriend hit you?"

"Ex now," Harper muttered bitterly. "Please, Sti. Don't get worked up over it. It's... It's in the past now. And he's thousands of miles away in Manhattan."

Stiles shook his head as she gently grabbed his jaw, steering his face to look at her. "I'm okay. He's nothing but an asshole and a mistake. I'm fine now."

"I don't understand how anybody could ever lay a hand on you," he whispered, his gaze flickering down to her lips and then back up to her eyes in a split second. "You know..."

Harper leaned up a little and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His tongue darted out to swipe his bottom lip as he blinked.

"I'm still... I-" He was cut off by Harper's lips leaning down and pressing against his, quite literally taking his breath away. His hands moved to her hips and he gave up what he was trying to tell her, kissing her back deeply.

He could wait to tell her.

...

Beacon Hills High was exactly how Harper had remembered it. She smiled as she walked past the classroom she'd first met Allison Argent in, and the girls' bathroom where she'd shared many heart-to-hearts with Lydia Martin. Or the table in the cafeteria that she sat with Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski for the first two years of their high school experience, having no other friends to fill the spare seats.

Allison sat behind her desk in her classroom, the brunette groaning as she went through piles and piles of essays that were meant to be graded by tomorrow. Harper had brought up a chair to the other side, the Beastiary in her hands that she had just borrowed from the former huntress to look through it.

"So you and Stiles think this links with the Massacre of Beacon Hills?" Allison huffed, ditching the papers and glancing up at her friend.

Harper nodded with a small sigh. "Yeah, but apparently nobody in this town cared enough to document it. I can't find a name or anything else on the deputy that was murdered."

"Not even Deaton?" Allison frowned.

"He said he'd look, but I don't have time to wait around for him," Harper huffed. "I'm trying to figure this out ASAP. And Isaac told me that your aunt's back, which is never great. No offence."

Allison shrugged dismissively. "Hey, I get it. We're like... the CEOs of problematic family members," the Argent woman grinned teasingly.

Harper laughed genuinely, "Oh, for sure. Derek can join the club too."

"Derek's meant to be coming home any day now," Allison spoke, "Scott hasn't told him about everything going on in Beacon Hills, though."

"We need all the help we can get at this point," Harper nodded, secretly excited to see the sour wolf that she hadn't seen for maybe five years.

She had no idea what he was up to nowadays. Harper was unable to imagine it, but perhaps the older man had a family now. As far as she was concerned, he was still together with Braeden and they lived happily across the other side of California. But five years was a long time, and a lot could happen.

"Yeah, especially when we don't know what Kate's doing back," Allison rubbed her hands down her face before she glanced at the clock at the back of the room. "Ugh. Fifteen minutes before lunch is over."

Harper flashed her a small grin. "I better leave before the bell rings. I'm pretty sure I'd still get crushed in those halls. Even the freshmen are taller than me."

Allison giggled, shaking her head at the brunette. "God, I wish I had graduated with all of you guys."

It suddenly dawned on Harper that Allison had missed out a lot of their final experiences. In fact, Allison had barely been with them for two years. The Empath stood up and started to head towards the door, gesturing for Allison to follow her.

"Where are you going?" Allison asked as she stood anyway.

"Come on, I wanna show you something."

Allison frowned as they walked through the school, finally making it to the library. Only a few students were inside since the majority either in the cafeteria or at the lunch benches outside as the weather was so nice today. The pair went up the stairs and over to some bookshelves.

"Hm, which one was it?" Harper tried to recall, heading over to one that she thought seemed familiar.

She lifted the books up and put them on the ground, Allison watching her curiously. Eventually, the shelf revealed a litter of initials scribbled in black Sharpie, including all of the packs'. Allison peered over Harper's shoulder, her eyes softening when she realised what it was.

"Senior scribe?" Allison asked as Harper's eyes landed on H.V written neatly beside S.S.

She smiled and nodded before pointing over to where Scott had written his initials and put Allison's right under it. The former huntress sucked in a breath, clearly not expecting to see her own name there. Harper put her hand on Allison's arm.

"I remember Scott and Lydia both said how you were still with us after we wrote our names," Harper murmured, noticing how Allison couldn't stop staring. "I know you don't remember the afterlife, but I'm pretty sure you were always there, Ally. It's like we could all feel you."

Allison gave her a teary smile and wrapped her arms around the shorter woman. "Thank you," she breathed. "Thank you for showing me this."

..


	16. Chapter 16

His girlfriend had been obsessed with the same band's music since her sophomore year of high school, so at this point, of course, Stiles knew every lyric to every song on every album. As soon as he pushed open the door to their apartment, Stuck With Me by The Neighbourhood filled his ears and put a small grin on his face. He put his keys down on the countertop nearby, shrugging his jacket off and hanging it by the door.

The music was so loud that Harper hadn't heard him yet, but as he walked into the kitchen he found her washing dishes while doing a little dance, making him chuckle to himself. Stiles didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing his girlfriend every single day. She did the smallest of tasks in the cutest of ways. He didn't know how somebody could make washing the dishes look so... perfect.

She almost gasped when she felt arms wrap around her waist, but as Stiles' cheek leant down to rest against her shoulder she released a loud laugh, her tense frame relaxing. He swayed with her as they sang along to one of her favourite songs, his lips mouthing the words he'd heard a hundred times already.

He went through a phase where he started to hate the band, wondering why the hell Harper had to listen to the same album every single day, but he'd grown to like the music because it reminded him of her.

"You always end up sticking to me," Stiles sang against her ear, making her laugh and grab his hands that were wrapped against her front. "Somehow, somehow."

"You are stuck with me so I guess I'll be sticking with you," Harper sang back, swaying quickly so that Stiles had no choice but to follow from where he was basically... well, stuck to her.

They laughed as Harper grabbed a handful of bubbles from the sink and blew them into his face, causing some to land on the end of his button nose. He crinkled his face and quickly swiped them off.

"Oh, you'll pay for that, Verum!" Stiles laughed, listening to her squeal and start to run away, the messy ponytail on her head making her look more youthful and lively as she raced over to their living space, jumping on top of the couch.

"Come get me, Stilinski!" Harper screeched, hopping from the arm of the sofa onto the oak coffee table.

She gasped as she slipped, her white socks no match for the glossy surface. Stiles reached out as soon as she started to fall, his surprised face quickly turning into a smug smile when she landed in his arms, a shocked expression written over her features.

"I think I got you," Stiles murmured, leaning down to attach their lips briefly.

The song ended and changed over to Flawless, one that Stiles liked a lot. He grinned and nuzzled his nose against hers, leaning back and dropping down onto the couch, Harper landing on his lap. She traced her hand down from his hair down to his cheek, brushing his jaw.

"How was work?" Harper murmured, fully aware that Stiles was staring straight back at her- no, admiring her. She almost blushed under his intense gaze.

"It was good," Stiles replied as Harper started to fiddle with the tie wrapped around his neck. "I couldn't wait to come home and see you, though."

Harper grinned. "Okay, softie. I bought you something."

The Stilinski man raised his eyebrows. "You did?"

"Mhm," she climbed off of Stiles' lap, immediately missing his warmth as she headed over to a bag set on the kitchen table and came back over. "Thought it would look nice on you."

Stiles pulled out a plaid shirt and examined it with soft eyes. "Aw, thanks bubba," Stiles cooed, leaning forward and connecting their lips again. "I love it. It shall go in my collection of plaid shirts along with the five hundred other ones I own."

The McCall-Argent residence had become the designated spot for the latest pack meeting. Harper and Lydia both turned up at the same time, of course, the strawberry blonde moving to the kitchen to go and help Allison with making the drinks. Harper's eyes cast over to the couch where she saw Isaac sat down, fiddling with his phone.

"Hey, Isaac," Harper chirped, giving him a grin as she moved to sit down beside him.

"Hey, Harps," Isaac greeted, sliding his phone back into the pocket of his trousers. "Excited for a pack meeting?"

"Eh," the brunette shrugged, "Depends whether Scott's gonna give us good news or bad news. And I have a feeling with the way things are going right now that it'll be the latter."

"Yeah," Isaac scoffed, kicking his feet out and stretching his long limbs. "This town has been so shit to us our entire lives."

Harper shrugged, "I don't know. I always thought that when I was a teenager... but maybe it's a curse and a blessing. I mean, we wouldn't be brother and sister if we didn't live in this hell hole, huh?" She poked his arm teasingly, earning a small but genuine smile from the Lahey man.

"Yeah, you're right," Isaac admitted. "And I have noticed it's hard to relate to anyone outside of Beacon Hills. They're all so... normal."

The Empath laughed. "Yeah, they are." She pursed her lips. "Mal, Lydia, Allison and I were talking about that the other day. We think that the pack's bond is so strong it makes it hard for us to form other relationships."

"Tell me about it," the honey-haired man huffed, "The number of times I've shifted in front of a new girlfriend and they've had panic attacks and thrown me out. I forget it's not normal."

"It's normal for us," Malia's voice came from nearby, causing the two siblings to jump and turn to face the werecoyote who had entered silently. "Sorry. Stiles just got here, by the way. And Scott says Derek will be here any moment."

"Derek?" Harper's brows raised. "Derek's here?"

"Yeah. Scott didn't tell you?" Malia frowned, flinging herself down into the armchair opposite them and clasping her hands casually behind her head.

Harper sighed and shook her head. "He's still not really talking to me 'cos he's upset about Allison."

Malia huffed and rolled her eyes. "Ugh. He needs to take his head out of his ass."

Isaac pointed at her in agreement.

"I don't know," Harper mumbled, glancing down at her intertwined fingers as she started to play with them. "I kind of get where he's coming from. They're basically soulmates. If that happened to me I'd be upset too."

"That's your empath side talking," Isaac shoved her lightly. "Stop trying to emphasise with him and tell him he's straight-up being an irrational dick and maybe we'd find a solution a lot quicker if he actually tried talking to every member of the pack."

The Empath gave a small giggle just as Stiles entered the room, sending everybody a nod before settling down on one of the couches. Harper's eyes cast over his body and realised he was wearing one of the plaid shirts she had bought him around four years ago now. He'd buttoned it up and paired it with a pair of his usual khaki pants and Adidas shoes. Harper felt slightly giddy that he'd kept the present.

"What we talking about?" Stiles asked, moving forward and grabbing an apple off the middle of the table, taking a large bite.

"Scott being a-" Malia cut herself off as the True Alpha himself entered the room and forced a smile on her face that looked utterly unconvincing. "Amazing host!" She reached forward and grabbed an apple for herself. "Mm, are these Pink Lady?"

Scott paused in his tracks, a dumbfounded look on his face. "Um, no... They're apples, Malia."

Harper and Stiles both snorted at the same time, Harper clamping her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing at Scott's lack of common sense. Both adults glanced over at each other, silently agreeing that their best friend hadn't changed a single bit.

Allison and Lydia came in a few minutes later with mugs in their hands and a pot of what Harper assumed was coffee. As they were placing it all down in the centre of the pack, the doorbell rang. Scott moved to answer the door and there was a little bit of murmured chat before he reentered, this time with a figure following close behind.

Harper glanced up, a bright smile taking over her features when she saw none other than Derek Hale stood in the doorway. Derek hadn't really changed at all since the last time Harper had seen him. His beard was still trimmed and neat, his black hair slicked back with gel and a newfound sparkle in his bright eyes.

"Derek!" Came a scattered chorus from members of the pack, Isaac moving to grab the older man into a short hug.

"Hi, guys," he greeted everybody and Harper could sense the shift in his aura from where she was sat on the couch, realising that Derek had changed perhaps not externally but internally. He seemed genuinely happy.

"Hey, sour wolf," Stiles waved, the smile immediately dropping from Derek's face. Stiles beamed in satisfaction.

"Now that we're all here, minus Liam of course, we should probably start the pack meeting," Scott suggested, rubbing his hands down his trousers and sitting down near Stiles and Allison.

Derek raised his dark brows, sitting down in between Isaac and Harper. "Pack meeting? I thought we were just having drinks or something."

"Huh," Stiles winced. "We may or may not have forgotten to tell you that Beacon Hills is kind of having another crisis when we called you the other night."

This made a glare harden on Derek's face as he stared between Stiles and Scott who shrunk back in their seats like they were still teenage boys. Harper's lips parted in amusement, but she did feel kind of sorry for Derek who was clearly over the supernatural drama by this point.

"What is it this time?"

The pack took it in turns to explain what was going on in Beacon Hills. Between the moths, Lenard being mad at Harper, the scarecrow-skeleton thing Harper and Lydia saw, Peter being attacked, people dying... Derek sat back with a solemn expression on his face, being a closed book like he always had been.

"Do you have any idea what this thing could be?" Lydia asked.

"I've never heard of anything like it," Derek admitted, shifting in his seat. "And I don't know what's going on with you either," he glanced over at Allison.

Harper felt a surge of sadness cross around the room, making her throat close up a little. She felt guilty all over again, shrinking back in her seat. Derek could sense her chemosignals, pursing his lips.

"How well do you remember the dream you had where Void told you that you could bring anyone back?" Derek asked her, causing everybody to turn to Harper.

The petite brunette tucked a strand of her behind her ear. "I- Not much," she admitted. "I just remember him saying I had to pick someone to save, and I picked Ally. Then he told me to pick between Ally or me... And I picked Ally again."

Scott glanced across at her, his jaw unclenching. He felt his eyes water at the thought of what was written in Allison's fate. She was destined to suffer another death, and while Scott was starting to realise he shouldn't blame Harper, it didn't hurt any less.

He didn't want to attend another one of her funerals. He didn't want to visit her grave every single night for weeks until his best friends had to pry him away one stormy night. He didn't want to have to try and move on again.

Scott didn't want to lose Allison.

...

Derek's biggest concern was the fact that Kate Argent was back in the picture. As soon as Malia had told him this, the man almost flipped the table in front of him, chewing his thumbnail as he paced around the living room. Scott told him that Kate had turned up at the doorstop, requesting in her usual-smug way to see her resurrected niece, but Scott had refused it.

"So she found out Allison's back and now she's back in Beacon Hills?" Derek repeated.

Lydia shrugged. "Apparently."

"No. No way," Derek shook his head back. "She has not come back just to see Allison. Kate doesn't work like that."

"We know," Scott replied. "That's why we're worried."

Harper bit her bottom lip. Now they had two supernaturals to worry about.

...

"You seem happier."

Derek paused from where he was about to climb into the front seat of his car. His hand held onto the open door of the black car as he turned, glancing down at the shorter woman in front of him. Harper looked more mature than she did when she was a teenager, but she still held such a youthful presence about her. Derek would never admit it, but it sort of calmed him.

He furrowed his eyebrows at the weird statement until he remembered who exactly he was talking to. Harper never seemed to really have a filter when it came to blurting out what she was thinking, but he guessed it was because as an Empath she was always feeling so much.

"I am happier," Derek replied, a sort-of smile playing at his lips when he saw how Harper was folding her arms across her chest, almost like confronting him about it.

Harper's eyes softened. "Good," she replied, "I'm glad."

"Thanks?" The dark-haired man replied, glancing behind her and seeing Stiles staring from a distance before quickly talking back to Malia when he realised Derek had caught him. "I got a lot to be happy about now."

"Like?"

"Well, my fiancé for starters," Derek listed, "My kids."

"Kids!?" Harper shrieked, her hand moving to go around her mouth as soon as the word left Derek's lips. "No bloody way are you a dad!"

Isaac raised his brows from where he was climbing onto his bike, his helmet resting under his arm. "Did I just hear that right? Derek Hale is a dad?"

"Whose kids did you steal?" Harper joked.

"Ha ha," Derek rolled his eyes. "They're mine. Braeden and I had a daughter two years ago and we have another on the way. She's seven months along which is why Braeden's couldn't come."

"Oh my gosh," Harper cooed, "I have to meet them. Derek, you can't just come home and not bring your kids."

"You can meet them one day," Derek promised, "You'd like Paige, she's too happy to be true."

Harper beamed at this, her eyes practically melting.

"You know, I would have thought you and Stiles would have at least one by now," Derek changed the subject. "You two still living in Beacon Hills?"

Despite the fact that she and Stiles were on a smooth road to recovery, she felt her heart break a little at Derek's words. He reminded her of what could have been if they'd just sorted everything out sooner.

"Oh," Harper gave him a sad smile. "Stiles and I broke up three years ago."

Derek was taken aback. He thought for sure if any couple was going to stay together then it would be Stiles and Harper. He remembered when he'd been shot with a wolfsbane bullet and he'd had to spend hours in a car with them one time after school. The werewolf didn't believe them when they said they weren't a couple, but when they got together only a week or two later, he wasn't surprised.

"Oh," he replied. "I'm sorry."

Harper shrugged. "Everything happens for a reason. We're working on it."

"Good. I'm glad," he repeated her words from before, making her giggle a little. "Even if Stilinski is still an annoying little shit."

"Heard that!"

,,


	17. Chapter 17

Last night three people had been killed. Sheriff Stilinski found a teenage girl, a man in his forties, and a doctor, all in different areas of Beacon Hills. The only things they had in common were the slash marks across their chests and the moths trying to eat at their rotting bodies. Harper had felt her heart plummet when she found out from a phone call from Melissa that morning.

"Maybe we lure it out," Isaac suggested from where he stood between Harper and Stiles in the temporary kitchen he owned. "Try to get it to attack one of us like it did Peter. It can't get all of us at once."

Stiles grimaced. "I don't like that plan."

"Yeah, me either," Lydia scoffed, shaking her head. "Even if it can't get all of us, we saw what it did to Peter. He only got out of the hospital yesterday."

"Then there's gotta be someone that knows more about supernatural creatures than Deaton," Harper huffed, slamming the Beastiary down on the countertop. "I read that thing three times last night. There is absolutely nothing about a scarecrow dude or moths that like to eat bodies."

There was a small silence before Lydia visibly winced. Isaac raised his brows at her, gesturing with his hand for her to spit out whatever she'd been thinking. The strawberry blonde released an overdramatic sigh and made eye contact with Harper, a soft expression written across her features.

Harper hesitated. "What is it, Lyds?"

"I know someone who knew a lot about the supernatural," she spoke doubtfully. "Or rather did know a lot."

"Who?" Stiles pressed. "We're kinda desperate at this point, Lydia."

"Valack."

...

Harper wasn't stupid. She knew it was for the best that she didn't go to Eichen House- not that she even wanted to. The brunette was sitting in the apartment she shared with Lydia later that night, her knees tucked up in front of her and her phone in her hands as she stared at the screen. Stiles had managed to sneak it through and they'd made it down to the supernatural department, or more specifically the office her father used.

"Do you want me to show you what we're looking at right now?" Stiles hesitated to ask. "Then you can tell us where you think he kept his stuff."

The woman exhaled as she shifted her position to get more comfortable and nodded. "Yeah, sure. Flip the camera."

Stiles did as he was told, the connection glitching for a moment before coming back to reveal Valack's office. Harper recognised bits and pieces of it from when she'd been strapped to the chair that sat in the corner eight years later, but it was all kind of hazy in her mind. She found that the dreams she had were always far more vivid than her actual memories of what had happened in the week-long period she'd been kidnapped in.

"He kept loads of journals," Harper said loudly, watching as Derek searched through cabinets in the background of the shot. She knew Isaac had gone with them too, so he was probably on the other side of the room. "Everything was always handwritten too, I don't know if that helps."

Stiles moved over to the chair he'd found Harper in when he saved her, his eyes landing on some notebooks beside it. The Stilinski man placed his phone down on one of the metal countertops so Harper could still sort of see him and he picked them up, flipping the pages. She could just make out the way his face scrunched up.

"What is it?" She asked.

"It's about you," Stiles replied bitterly, "Like an observation book."

Harper remembered how he always took notes when he'd experiment on her and realised that was probably the book. Even through the phone, Harper could see the layer of dust coating everything. It had been so many years ago, but it never seemed to hurt any less what her father had done to her.

Stiles only read for a couple more seconds before he ended up slamming the book back down, unable to read anymore. His jaw remained clenched as he searched through the draws to the side of the chair, pulling out book after book.

"Anyone got anything?" Harper heard Isaac's voice from somewhere across the room.

"Nothing," Derek replied while Harper watched Stiles shake his head and carry on looking.

"It's probably all kept together somewhere," the Empath told them as she reached forward and grabbed her glass of water off of the coffee table, taking a sip.

A couple more minutes went by before Harper heard Isaac call out for the two other men in the room. She watched through Stiles' phone as they glanced over the werewolf's shoulder, looking at all of the books Isaac had found in some sort of metal safe. It looked like he had broken it open with his claws which were still extended as he pulled out books.

"Is this your dad's handwriting, Harper?" Isaac asked, showing the first page to Harper.

"I think so," she replied, not recalling what it really looked like anymore. "What does it say?"

"There are seven different books," Derek's voice was slightly muffled as he sorted through them. "Empaths, Empaths..." Harper frowned as he droned on. "Dread Doctors... True Vision... Beacon Hills..."

"That one, that one," Stiles cut Derek off and practically yanked it from the older man's hands. "If this thing is linked to the Beacon Hills Massacre like we think it is, then surely it's in here?"

Harper nodded, "Yeah, most likely. Take all of them just in case."

A sudden knock to the apartment door made Harper jump and she turned her head over her shoulder, a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Lydia was out with her girlfriend and Scott, Allison, and Malia were trying to track down Kate and see what she really wanted. The brunette's tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip as she felt her mouth go dry.

"Someone's at the door," she muttered, hesitating to climb up from the couch.

Harper stayed on FaceTime, her phone tucked tightly in her hand, as she went up on her tiptoes and peered through the peephole. Her blood ran cold when she saw a familiar blonde woman standing on her doorstep who went by none other than Kate Argent. Stiles heard her small gasp on the other end of the phone.

"What? Who's at the door?" Stiles pressed.

"Um- it's Kate," Harper whispered, watching as the woman smirked and folded her arms across the chest, waiting for Harper to open up. "Shit, Stiles. What do I do? Fuck!"

"Kate's there?" Derek's voice rang out. "We're on our way."

"Don't answer the door, Harper," Stiles warned her and she heard them shuffling on the other end but didn't bother to look down at her screen, more focused on the woman outside who seemed to be surveying her apartment. "Go hide in one of the bedrooms. Get something to defend yourself with in case she comes in."

Harper nodded and started to back away from the door just as Kate started to bang once again, calling out the brunette's name in a sing-song voice. Shivers went down her spine and she hissed a curse word or two, moving to the kitchen and grabbing a knife. Harper gulped as she moved into Lydia's bedroom that had the built-in wardrobe, hiding where all of the shoes were meant to go and closing the door.

"Guys, hurry," she whispered, looking down at the phone and watching as the three men started to make their way up all of the stairs to get out of the supernatural unit.

"We're on our way, Harps," Stiles promised just as he heard a crash come in from her end and heard a small squeal escape Harper's lips.

Harper clamped her hand down over her mouth and turned the volume of her phone down so Stiles was muted. She would have called the police if she didn't know Kate was a werejaguar and the Sheriff was practically her father. She didn't want him to get hurt.

"Oh, Harper," she heard Kate's voice dangerously close to the wardrobe, making her freeze. "I can hear your heartbeat, darling. But nice try."

The wardrobe door suddenly whipped open and Harper dropped her phone in shock. As Kate reached down and grabbed her by the collar, tugging her up onto her feet, Harper panicked and drove the knife in her hand forward, cringing as it went through the flesh of Kate's stomach.

"Ah, you little bitch!" Kate cried out, driving Harper back so that she was against the wall, her grip on the young woman tightening even more.

Harper watched with wide eyes as Kate's fingers wrapped around the handle and she pulled it out of her stomach, dropping it onto the cream carpet and adding to the blood already dripping there. Kate's bloody hand moved to wrap around Harper's neck, but not to hurt her, more like to scare her.

"One swipe of the claws is all it takes, Harper, so I suggest you cooperate," Kate spat snidely. "Since my dear niece couldn't help me out, maybe you and I should have some gal chat, huh, Harps?"

Harper grimaced. "Eh, I'm not really in a talkative mood right now."

Kate laughed bitterly before she lifted her hand into a fist and smirked. "Too bad, because I am."

All Harper felt was a sharp pain in her temple and she was a goner.

...

"Stiles, you need to calm down," Scott pleaded with his best friend as the Stilinski man paced up and down the length of the animal clinic, his chest nearly heaving as he chewed on his thumb, blinking quickly.

Stiles raised a slender finger at Scott, shaking his head. "No- no!" His voice raised. "You do not get to tell me to be calm right now, Scott. Not when Harper is out there with that- with that-"

"Psychopathic bitch?" Lydia offered, causing him to nod and point at her. "Look, I get it, Stiles. We're worried about Harper, too, but what Scott means is that you need to calm down before you have a full-blown out panic attack."

Malia huffed as she watched Stiles ignore the strawberry blonde and continue to pace. "Well, what did Kate say before she took Harper?" The werecoyote spoke. "Maybe she didn't take Harper because she's Harper, maybe Kate took her because she's an Empath."

Not even two hours had gone by since Harper had disappeared, but Stiles was straight-up losing his mind. Sheriff Stilinski already had a couple of officers looking out for her, as well as Kate, but their main focus right now was all of the dead bodies that had been appearing around Beacon Hills.

"No, she definitely took Harper because she's Harper," Derek disagreed, Malia's words managing to sound unnatural on his tongue. "We heard her mention Allison not cooperating or something over the phone."

The former huntress wore a guilty expression as she chewed down on her bottom lip. Stiles quickly picked up on it, shooting Allison a look that told her to 'spill or else'. The tall brunette sighed.

"I ran into Kate yesterday and she wanted to talk, but I told her no," Allison explained, her tone hinting dread. "She said she'd make one of us talk... I just didn't know she'd do this."

"Allison, you should have told us," Scott sighed in dismay, watching as Stiles ran a hand through his hair.

"So he took her for information..." Isaac summarised. "But why Harper?"

"Well, you always go for the weakest in the pack," Malia shrugged, earning a glare from Stiles. "What? It's true. Listen, I love Harper, and sure she can kick human ass, but she's tiny and she's defenceless against things with claws and fangs."

Stiles sighed, knowing Malia was right. It didn't make it any less upsetting though. He remembered when Harper found out she was an Empath she was so disappointed over how she couldn't do anything physically cool.

"But where would she have taken her?" Lydia folded her arms across her chest.

Derek pursed his lips. "We just need to catch a scent. They can't have gone far."

Stiles watched helplessly as their friends started to pile out of the animal clinic, feeling bad for not knowing how to help. He didn't work with missing people in the FBI, but he did have a good idea of what went down. But this wasn't like that. This was supernatural, and he'd watched Kate snatch Harper with his own eyes.

He could only pray nothing bad was going to happen to Harper.


	18. Chapter 18

Harper blinked and realised she was strapped to a table, her wrists and ankles pinned down. The Empath groaned, wriggling in her confined spot in an attempt to free herself, but having no success whatsoever. The last thing she remembered was Kate grabbing her by the throat and leading her out of her father's old office before nothing.

"Hello?" Harper huffed, glancing over her head at her wrists. There was no way she was getting out of those things. "Kate, you psychopathic bitch, just come get the whole evil backstory thing over and done with and move onto torturing me or whatever."

A low chuckle came from behind her, making Harper roll her eyes. How cliche. Of course Kate Argent would give one of her sinister laughs and then come out formed as a werejaguar. The blonde woman's fluorescent green eyes glowed, her fangs prominent in her mouth as she grinned at Harper, moving to circle the table she was tied to.

"I like you, Harper," Kate admitted, "You seem so innocent but as soon as anybody messes with your friends... You just can't help all the sarcasm and remarks that should probably have gotten you killed by now, huh?"

Harper pursed her lips, not knowing what to say to Allison's aunt who definitely had more mental issues than a lifetime's worth of therapy could sort out. The last time Kate had been in Beacon Hills, she'd shot Scott with a yellow wolfsbane bullet and tried to take out the entire pack.

"That loyalty could get you killed," Kate sighed, running a clawed finger along Harper's jaw and making the brunette woman grimace, trying to pull away. "But I don't want to kill you, Harper. You seem like a lovely girl, bringing my niece back from the dead and all."

"Yeah, well..." Harper shrugged her shoulders. "Look, Kate. Why don't you just undo the straps and we can talk like civilised women? No need to fight anymore. The past's in the past, right?"

"Wrong," Kate scowled, grabbing her by the chin and forcing her to look Kate in the eyes. "I need you to bring someone back for me- like you did with Allison."

"I can't," the brunette nearly squealed when Kate dug her claws in deeper, slightly pinching at her soft skin. "I'm pretty sure the Allison thing was a one time only pass. If I could save more people this town would be a hell of a lot fuller than it is right now."

"I knew you'd say that," the werejaguar huffed, taking her claws away. "Anything to protect your little pack."

"I'm telling the tr-"

"Which is why I had a backup plan," Kate cut Harper off, casually reaching over to a jar to the side of her and picking it up. She started to sprinkle the purple dust inside over Harper, making her face scrunch up.

"Wha- What are you doing!?"

"A little age regression ritual I learnt a while back," Kate murmured with a sly smile, continuing with her task as Harper's eyes widened and she started to struggle even more. "I know it didn't work with Derek how I'd hoped last time, but maybe if I set you back a few years... Maybe you'd be a little more willing to cooperate with the sad, distressed woman you don't know. After all, you are very empathetic, Harper. And so much more naive when you were younger, too."

"It's- it's not gonna work because I'm telling the truth," Harper pleaded with her. "I'm not going to be able to help you, Kate. Pl- Please..."

Harper had no time to listen to the blonde's response before she drifted out of consciousness, falling limp against the table.

...

24 HOURS LATER.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Stiles ducked, covering his arms over his head as concrete tore from the ceiling, falling in slow motion down towards him.

The man managed to get out of the way just in time, an explosion of dust filling the air and causing him to cough as he watched from his new spot as the rest of the pack tried to take on Kate. She was in werejaguar mode, her claws swinging quicker than Scott's as she slashed him across the stomach, causing him to groan and fall backwards.

"Scott!" He heard Allison yell before an array of arrows were being sprung in Kate's direction.

As soon as the first lodged into her leather-clad back, the former huntress whirled around and dodged the rest, grabbing a couple in her hands and smirking at her niece. She laughed mockingly at the brunette woman, reaching back and tugging it out of her back.

"Oh, you're all so out of practice," Kate grinned, snapping it in half and then stomping on it. "This is going to be so much fun."

"Not me," Chris Argent muttered, raising the gun in his hands before he started to shoot, managing to lodge a bullet or two in Kate's legs to try and slow her down.

Scott started to climb off of the floor, holding his stomach wound and looking around desperately. As soon as his gaze locked on Stiles he yelled out to him.

"Stiles, go find Harper!" He yelled, "Malia, Lydia. Go with him."

The Stilinski man didn't hesitate to nod before he took off down the hallway, listening to the two women right on his trail. La Iglesia was just as rundown as the time they'd all run through the tunnels eight years ago, like a crumbling maze of dust and brick.

Not even twenty-four hours had gone by before Scott managed to locate Harper's scent in a car near the Mexico border. As soon as they'd realised this, it didn't take long for them to realise Kate would be exactly where she'd taken Derek last time.

Stiles had no idea what state he was about to find the Verum woman in, but he prayed she was just okay. The torch in his hand cast down the hallways as he yelled her name, Lydia and Malia copying his actions. With every minute that went by, Stiles only grew more anxious, his heartbeat picking up to the point where Malia was finding it hard to ignore.

"Stiles, calm down," Malia grabbed his shoulder and shot him a pointed look. "Shouldn't you be used to going on loads of missions like these by now?"

Lydia almost scolded Malia for her insensitive words but Stiles had already turned away from the werecoyote, tugging his bottom lip between his eyes in desperation, trying to quip up some sort of plan in his head. He was used to handling stress a lot better nowadays, of course he was, but this was different- this was Harper they were trying to find.

"Left or right?" Stiles asked, pointing between the two tunnels they'd come to. When neither women didn't immediately reply he huffed. "Lydia, shouldn't you be having some sort of Banshee feeling? Or can't you smell her, Malia?"

Malia shook her head. "All I can smell is the dust in this place."

Stiles didn't reply but went right, continuing to call Harper's name. Malia would raise her nose into the air and take long sniffs every now and then, Lydia's green eyes darting around everywhere to spot their short friend. Perhaps twenty minutes had passed before Stiles felt like his throat was about to die and he dropped down against a pillar, his head in his hands as he shook his head.

"What if she's not even here?" He mumbled. "What if this is a massive trick?"

Footsteps suddenly came running around the corner, followed by quick pants. Stiles stood, relief flooding his system when it was just Scott, Allison, and Chris. Isaac and Derek were back in Beacon Hills helping Sheriff Stilinski with the bodies that had appeared last night.

"Did you deal with Kate?" Malia questioned.

Chris nodded. "The Calaveras will be handling her from now on."

"Well, that didn't work out very well last time, did it?" Malia retorted before Allison quickly changed the subject.

"No Harper yet?" She raised her brows.

"Clearly not," Stiles nearly glared and Scott clamped a hand of his own down on Stiles' shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. "We've been looking for thirty minutes and nothing."

"Do we split up?" Scott suggested.

Chris shook his head. "No, we're not splitting up. Scott, try howling. If Harper can't hear Stiles calling her name, she'll hear that."

Scott nodded eagerly, a hopeful look on his face. "Yeah, when Harper and I were in Stiles' head I howled to get his attention and it worked."

"So howl," Lydia pushed. "Howl, Scott."

Scott did.

...

"Scott."

Harper's eyes snapped open as her alpha's name escaped her lips before she could even process it in her brain. His howl had echoed around La Iglesia and caused the entire building to shake slightly, waking up the petite brunette on the ground.

She winced when she felt a pain in her fingers, looking down to see the pinkie and ring finger wrapped up in medical tape. The last thing she could remember was going to the ice rink with Stiles, Lydia, Scott, and Allison and the werewolf had crashed straight into her, leaving her with a fractured bone. Harper blushed when she remembered what had happened next with her and Stiles in her room, and then Rose walking in...

Only a second later the embarrassment had faded because Harper realised she had no idea where she was. She definitely wasn't in her bedroom where she'd fallen asleep after texting Stiles. It was cold and dark as she scrunched her nose and climbed onto her hands and knees, searching around in the darkness for any source of light but finding none.

"Scott!" Harper yelled his name again, figuring something bad must have happened to her.

Derek had bitten Isaac and Erica and Stiles, Scott, and she had worked out that he needed a third beta... maybe this was some sort of underground lair? Maybe this was Gerard Argent's work... He did seem pretty suspicious of her when the three of them had been sent to his office a few days ago.

Another roar echoed in Harper's ears, so loud that she whimpered and had to cover her face. Some dust fell from the ceiling above her, tangling with her long, dark hair. Harper pushed herself off of the ground and realised there was a space in the wall. She moved through it, finding it a little easier to see as she squinted her eyes.

"Scott!" Harper tried again, not knowing how she knew it was Scott's roar but having full confidence in herself that it was anyway. "Scott!"

"Harper!" She heard the distant sound of her name, making her heartbeat rise. "We can hear you, we're coming," it was definitely Scott's voice, but he sounded different somehow, perhaps a little deeper.

Harper started to move in the direction that she had heard his voice come from, eager to find him and demand to know what the hell was going on. She glanced down at the dress she was wearing, wondering when the hell she bought the dark material or even put it on. Had she been sleepwalking?

"Scott?" Harper called once more when she heard footsteps coming around the corner.

The brunette's eyes landed on Scott, her mouth dropping open when she saw how old he looked. He was looking at her in shock too, but Harper thought she was on the verge of passing out. Just yesterday Scott had been sporting his shaggy hair and baggy striped tees, and now he had facial hair and just looked so... mature.

A pair of hands were pulling her into a hug before she could even process anything, her heart skipping a beat at the unfamiliar body against her own. When they pulled her back at arm's length, both gasped at the same time, their dark eyes widening almost comically.

"Harper?"

"Stiles!?"

No way was this Stiles Stilinski. No fucking way. If she thought Scott had changed, then Stiles had had the transformation of the century. His hair was long and he had facial hair and muscles. This was not the lanky teenage boy she'd kissed goodnight less than twelve hours ago. No way was this her boyfriend.

"What the-" Harper glanced behind him, seeing Lydia, Allison, and even Chris Argent stood there, alongside a woman that Harper had never met before.

They all looked older.

Harper's head was whirling with a hundred thoughts per second. What was Allison's father doing here? Who was the woman with the short hair? Does Lydia know about the supernatural? Why the hell have her friends all aged by ten years?

"Kate did the age regression ritual on her," Chris murmured, watching as the teenage girl clearly freaked out, her brown eyes blinking rapidly and a frown etched onto her soft features.

Realising Stiles was quite overwhelmed too, Scott took a step forward and held his hands out in defence, trying to reassure Harper that they weren't going to hurt her. Seeing his best friend so young again had brought back some sort of nostalgia for all of the adults in the room, all sorts of memories flooding back.

"I know you're probably really confused right now, but we'll explain everything," Scott promised her, not sure if she had even heard him over how much she was consumed by her own thoughts.

"A-Are you really Scott?" Harper asked him, earning a small breathy chuckle from the True Alpha. 

"Of course, Harps," he replied softly as he reached forward and extended his hand so that she could take a hold of it, which Harper stared at for a couple of seconds.

"Prove it," she folded her arms across her chest.

Memories of Scott's fight against the Anuk-Ite came back to him in flashes. When Harper had stumbled her way into the library, he'd demanded proof that she was real as well. However, by looking at Harper now, she only looked about sixteen. That hadn't happened for her yet.

Stiles' hazel eyes flickered down to the medical tape around her fingers and he swallowed, knowing exactly what time Kate had regressed Harper to.

"I put that on for you," he recalled, causing Harper's gaze to shift towards him instead. "After we went ice skating."

Allison quickly nodded from where she stood beside the stranger Harper didn't know. "Scott bumped into you and landed on your hand and you broke your finger."

Harper wasn't sure why they were talking like this was years and years ago and they were only just remembering when the memory was so fresh in her brain. It only frazzled her more.

"And then I apologised for the worst first date ever and you said that it wasn't," Stiles reminisced, his voice dropping to barely above a murmur as he looked at her with fond eyes.

"Sorry for the worst first date ever," Stiles mumbled, not looking up from where he had ripped the medical tape with his teeth. He slowly began to wrap it around her pinky finger and the one beside it.

Harper shook her head. "This wasn't the worst first date ever." She placed her hand under his chin, forcing him to look at her. Her voice was so soft that it gave Stiles butterflies.

"I took you somewhere you insisted on not going and you broke your finger. That kind of sounds like the worst first date ever," He grumbled, looking at her with sad eyes.

The Empath smiled at him. "This will be the most cute story to tell, Stiles. Think about it. If we go on- if our relationship lasts years and years and people ask us what our first date was like- we can tell them this story. That I broke my finger on our first date and then you helped me. It's dorky, like all those cliche movies I watch that you hate."

Stiles looked at her fondly. "I guess this would be a cute story to tell."

Harper grinned at him. "Hell yeah it would."

Stiles could vaguely remember her little speech about them telling their first date to their future kids, and he almost laughed bitterly at the irony of this entire situation.

"Come on, we'll explain everything," Scott promised her.

Harper stared at Stiles for a couple of seconds before she shifted her eyes back to Scott and nodded, accepting his outstretched hand. Scott smiled slightly at her and guided her over towards the rest of the pack.

Harper chewed on her bottom lip as they started to walk through the tunnels, her mind still coming up with loads of different questions. The brunette looked across at the taller woman beside her, catching her brown eyes.

"Hi, I'm Harper," the Empath offered a nervous smile.

The woman cleared her throat awkwardly. "Oh, ur, hi. Malia."

The rest of the pack had to admit that the exchange was quite sweet, Stiles' lips twitching upwards in amusement from where he walked behind Harper, looking down at her petite frame as she gave Malia yet another awkward smile. There was also something somewhat tragic behind the situation. This sixteen-year-old version of Harper was so innocent and unknowing- she had no idea what was going to happen to her and her friends in the next few years.

Stiles wondered if they were going to tell Harper the truth or wait for the age regression spell to wear off.   
...

"Thank you," Harper whispered as Stiles pushed a plastic tray across the table, a burger and fries sat on top. "I don't really have any money to pay you back right now..."

The Stilinski man chuckled and rolled his eyes, taking a fry from his own tray. "It's fine," he said. "It's on me."

Scott, Allison, Chris, and Malia sat on the other side of the leather booth while Lydia sat on the other side of Harper in the diner they'd stopped at on the side of the motorway. The drive home was going to be a long one, especially when they had a teenager in the car who didn't know what the hell was going on.

"Um. Do any of you have a phone I could borrow?" Harper picked up a fry, feeling too jittery to even eat her food.

Malia's brows tugged down into a frown. "For what?"

"To, ur, to call my grandma," Harper replied, "She's probably really worried about me."

All the adults faltered their movements, exchanging worried glances. It was like the Derek situation all over again, except this time it was way more personal to Scott and Stiles. They'd loved Rose too, and they remembered exactly how it felt to watch Harper try and recover in the months after her death.

Allison took a sip of her drink and then forced a smile on her face. "Harper, what's the last thing you remember?" She tried to change the subject, hoping the teenage girl wouldn't press any further.

Harper seemed to blush a little as she tucked her long hair behind her ear and peered at the older woman. "Texting Stiles before I went to bed last night."

Stiles' gaze flickered away from Harper's when he realised why she was blushing. Of course Stiles remembered that— it was not only his first date, but included his first make out session. This had all happened less than twelve hours ago in Harper's world which was insane to him.

"I bet you have a lot of questions," Scott pursed his lips, his dark eyes flickering down to where her hand was wrapped around her can of Diet Coke, shaking a little. "But maybe it's best you calm down a little before we overwhelm you with stuff."

"I— I don't really know how to calm down," Harper cracked him a small smile. "I mean, yesterday we were literally getting told off by Harris in Chemistry and now you're a grown man with tattoos."

Harper's brain was racking through dozens of possible theories, some more realistic than others. For example, maybe this was all just some lucid dream and she was going to wake up soon? For a bit she considered that her friends were pranking her, but no way would Lydia get involved with anything Scott and Stiles wanted to do, and Allison's father was here too.

"Yeah, I understand you're probably really confused right now," Scott agreed, "Maybe there is no right time to tell you."

"Do I have amnesia or something?" Harper asked.

"Kind of," Stiles scratched his chin, causing the teenage girl to glance over at him this time. "It's a really, really long story."

"Well, is anybody gonna tell me it?" Harper's voice raised a little as she began to grow more scared. "'Cause I feel like I have the right to know."

There was a small silence as Scott and Stiles glanced at each other, silently trying to work out who was going to say what. They know Harper would want the truth, she was furious as Scott when he lied to Derek, but maybe the truth was too upsetting for her to handle right now. Stiles huffed in frustration.

"Okay, so... a lot happened to us all during high school," Stiles tried to explain. "I mean, after the Kanima and Matt-"

"What's a Kanima?" Harper cut in, "and who's Matt? Matt Daehler?"

Stiles sighed when he realised that Harper obviously hadn't encountered Jackson's other half or found out what her German partner was really up to with his camera yet. They had a lot of explaining to do.

"Um, okay, probably not that important then," he scratched his jaw, looking to anybody else for help.

"Point is, obviously a bunch of stuff is going to happen leading up to where we are presently," Lydia tried to explain in a gentle manner, being careful not to overwhelm the teenager who was listening intently. "Lots of supernatural stuff."

Harper raised her brows. "But do we ever find out who Derek's third beta is?"

"Yeah, yeah we do, Harper," Stiles murmured, releasing a small scoff, envious that that was once their biggest concerns. "We all go through a lot during high school, which is where we met Malia."

"Oh," Harper glanced in the direction of Malia who looked up at the mention of her name and shot the brunette a pursed-lipped nod. "So you were the third beta?"

"No," Malia seemed almost offended. "I'm a werecoyote, not a werewolf."

"Werecoyotes are a thing?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Harper, you're getting distracted," Stiles waved his hand in front of her face. "The third beta was Vernon Boyd, remember him?"

"Obviously. We sat with him at lunch yesterday and asked for the keys to the ice rink," Harper rolled her eyes with a small smile, shaking her head at him.

"No, Harper," Scott murmured softly, "That wasn't yesterday. That was nearly nine years ago."

Harper blinked at him and laughed worriedly, waiting for him to tell her he was kidding. However, Scott's solemn expression didn't change and he was making sense. It would explain why all of her friends were so much older and why they seemed so comfortable with Malia who Harper swore she had never laid eyes on before. Plus, Chris was sitting here- and he seemed to actually enjoy the company of them all. He didn't even flinch when Scott had put his hand on Allison's back earlier.

"How was that nine years ago?" Harper whispered.

"Kate did an age regression ritual on you," Allison said, "It made you go back to sixteen- but don't worry, it's only temporary."

"Kate?"

"Argent," Chris spoke. "Unfortunately, my sister was still alive after Peter slashed her throat."

The young Empath didn't say anything but blinked and shuffled back into her seat. She stared at the table in front of her, her thoughts running wild. Her brain couldn't properly comprehend what they were trying to tell her. She'd gone to bed last night like any other normal day... How was this even possible?

"So I'm twenty-four like you guys?" Harper summarised, "I just can't remember anything that's happened for eight years?"

"Yeah," Scott nodded. "But like Allison said, it's only temporary."

"Do you believe us?" Lydia asked.

"I- I don't know," Harper admitted. "I don't know if my mind is tricking me or if- or if this is some big dream. I don't know."

Stiles wanted to comfort the brunette beside him who was clearly freaking out. He knew back when they were sixteen, the only thing that could calm one of her panic attacks was when he would help her. But he wasn't that Stiles anymore, and it would just be weird.

"Do you want to see a picture of yourself?" The strawberry blonde suggested, grabbing her phone out when Harper hesitated to nod.

Lydia scrolled through her camera roll and found the album labelled "Harper" since her iPhone automatically detected faces. She handed it over to Harper, the teenage girl glancing at the device with raised eyebrows. It put her crappy phone to shame, and it definitely looked like something out of the future.

When she looked down at the screen her heart almost stopped in her chest. Sure enough, there were hundreds of pictures of herself. Some with Lydia, Scott, Stiles, Allison, even Malia and... Isaac from Chemistry? In some she looked about eighteen, and in others she was obviously older, in her early twenties like everyone else.

Harper's eyes landed on a picture of herself in New York, a grin on her face and a cocktail in her hand. Lydia had taken a few of the same picture. She clicked on it, the date automatically flicking at the top.

August 19th 2020.

Eight years into the future. But the woman in the photograph was undoubtedly her. She shakily handed the phone back to Lydia.

"That's in New York?" She asked.

The woman nodded. "Yeah, where you live. Last summer."

Harper's mouth dried a little and she tucked her hair behind her face, feeling her skin start to heat as the thought of this being true settled on her. This wasn't some dream she could just wake up from.

Everybody awaited her reaction. Unlike Derek, Harper didn't seem angry at any of them, but that was probably because she actually knew most of them, unlike the werewolf who had woken up surrounded by strangers. Instead, she seemed quite scared, which was understandable.

"May I use the bathroom?" She questioned timidly, earning a confused nod from Scott, wondering why she even had to ask before realising it was probably the whole age patriarchy thing.

Stiles slid out of the booth so she could get up and she barely glanced at the table of people as she wandered to the bathroom of the small diner. Once she was inside the empty room, Harper moved to the sink and splashed water into her face before she stared at herself in the reflection of the mirror.

Her skin was tan and youthful, her dark hair reaching below her breasts and looking as rich as ever under the bright lights of the bathroom. She reached up and touched her face, her face a little fuller than it was in the photos she just saw.

Harper moved out of the bathroom and glanced over to her friends, seeing them all talking to each other. She snuck to the left and out of sight, going over to a phone booth and scanning it for information.

"Excuse me, sir?" She called to a man walking by. "Could I have some change for the phone?"

The man paused in his tracks and huffed before he fished through the pocket of his trousers and handed the girl some coins. Harper thanked him before she stabbed in the number she knew off by heart, raising the phone to her face.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," Harper muttered under her breath as it started to ring, her heart pounding painfully in her heart.

She nearly gasped out loud when she heard the phone get picked up on the other end. "Hello?" A woman's voice came through the phone.

The American accent definitely did not belong to her grandmother who'd always smacked Harper if she pronounced her 't's lazily.

"Um, hi," Harper spoke awkwardly. "Is Rose Verum there?"

"No, honey. Nobody called Rose," the woman replied.

"That's impossible," Harper whispered. "This is my grandma's phone number."

"Maybe you got it wrong, darling," the person spoke dismissively on the other side. "I've had this number for about eight years now."

Eight years.

"Okay, thank you," Harper whispered, listening as the phone started to beep, indicating she'd ran out of time anyway.

Slowly, she placed the phone back onto the hook, a dazed expression on her face. Eight years ago... According to the older versions of her friends, that means Rose must have changed her number now for Harper. In her sophomore year.

She heard footsteps come running from behind her and she turned, seeing Stiles there with a worried expression on his face. Except that wasn't her Stiles. This was a grown man that spoke smoothly and wasn't sickly pale and didn't almost drop everything he grabbed.

"Harper!" He seemed relieved to see her. "We thought you disappeared again."

"My grandma's not around anymore, is she?" Harper whispered, blinking back her tears as she stared into the hazel eyes that hadn't changed unlike the rest of Stiles. "In whatever year this is?"

Stiles' entire body tensed and he didn't need to say a word for Harper to know she was right. Harper began to cry, small sobs escaping her lips as she moved to the man in front of her for comfort. Stiles wrapped his arms around her petite frame, trying to hush her in a comforting manner.

"It's okay, it's okay."

But Harper only sobbed louder. She was so scared.


	19. Chapter 19

Harper woke up the next morning and almost jumped out of her skin when she realised she had no clue where she was. As soon as her hand touched the mattress beneath her, everything came flooding back all at once. She blinked as she looked around the room of the apartment she was supposedly renting with Lydia, wondering how the hell all of this had happened to her.

It had taken her hours to sleep last night, which was rather understandable. In Harper's world, she'd never slept anywhere but her own bed in her grandmother's home- unless it was a sleepover. When she didn't get to go back to her home and walk straight into her grandmother's arms, she found herself grieving the woman's death nine years later.

"Harper?" The brunette heard a knock at the door, causing her to glance towards it and release a small hum.

Lydia pushed it open, sending the teenage girl a warm smile as she brought in a mug of coffee. Harper smiled back nervously from where she sat at the vanity, fiddling about with all the expensive makeup that apparently future-her could afford. The strawberry blonde set it down by her stuff and looked at her through the mirror.

"How are you feeling?" She asked softly.

"Um, better than last night," Harper spoke honestly, scratching her wrist. "This is just a lot to take in."

"We get it," Lydia nodded, "We promise everything will go back to normal soon, though."

Harper replied with a small nod back, her fingers absentmindedly touching everything within reach. The Banshee hadn't even noticed how clumsy and touchy they all were as teenagers until she saw Harper like this. At least it was her that Kate aged-down and not Stiles, she guessed.

Just as Lydia was about to leave, she felt a smaller hand clasp around her wrist and pull her back a little. Her green eyes widened slightly in surprise and she sent Harper another smile.

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something?" Harper murmured anxiously.

"Yeah, of course," Lydia spoke eagerly, the thought of getting Harper to trust her nearly overwhelming as she sat down on the edge of the bed. "Anything."

"This might make me sound like just some stupid teenager," she rubbed her own arm. "But Stiles and I... Are we, like, the real thing?"

Well, Lydia definitely wasn't expecting that. She thought maybe Harper would ask about her grandmother, or perhaps what their senior year was like, what they did after graduation... Anything else other than Stiles Stilinski. But she guessed it made sense. She was a teenager in love.

"Yeah," Lydia replied, and it wasn't really a lie. "You and Stiles are the real thing."

Harper's heart started to race at the thought and, despite the situation she was in, she couldn't help but feel so incredibly lucky. As soon as she realised she'd fallen in love with her best friend, she hoped that they were forever, and apparently they are. She couldn't think of anything more perfect than Stiles Stilinski, her best friend and first-ever boyfriend, being the only one for her.

"Really?" She whispered, the amazement in her voice not going undetected by Lydia.

"You and Stiles are gonna go through a lot," the Banshee admitted, "High school isn't going to be average for any of the pack, but... But you and Stiles stick to each other like glue the entire time, even when you're apart or in small arguments.

And... And the truth is, you two do go through some stuff when you're about twenty-one or twenty-two and you do make the mutual decision to give each other space- but that doesn't mean you two aren't the real thing," Lydia quickly added, "Nobody is more in love than you and Stiles, Harper. You two, before the whole age regression shit, you were really starting to repair everything."

Harper swallowed thickly and nodded. "So we are broken up?"

"Not really..." She winced, "Um, the two of you are kind of complicated right now... I- don't really know how to explain it to a teenager without feeling like some sort of predator."

Harper actually giggled at this, making Lydia raise her brows. "Future-me is hooking up with future-Stiles? Or, well, now-me and now-Stiles."

Lydia nodded. "But don't tell Stiles I told you," she pointed a finger at her. "He didn't want you to know you were broken up or together, he just wanted the age regression thing to blow over."

"When future-me comes back, tell her past-me told her to get over herself and tell him how she really feels," Harper told Lydia.

Lydia scoffed with a small smile. "Will do."

...

Nobody was one hundred percent sure when the age regression was going to wear off, but Deaton had told them that it wouldn't be too long, perhaps a couple of days at the most. The teenage girl had been briefly updated on what was currently going on in Beacon Hills and to say she was shocked was an understatement.

She had yet to experience the Kanima, the first real threat to all of Beacon Hills, so she wasn't too familiar with so much death. As Harpers stood next to Lydia in the animal clinic, she wondered how her friends were able to keep such stone-cold faces as they spoke about yet another woman being found torn up on the street, moths eating at her insides.

"My dad said people are starting to get really worried," Stiles spoke, "Which is obviously expected, but some people are thinking werewolves."

Scott's bottom lip was being tugged between his teeth as he released a stressed sigh, turning away from the group of people for a moment to run his hands over his face. When Harper had found out that Scott was a True Alpha, she was also shocked about that. To her, he was still the boy who rode her on the handlebars of his bike sometimes when Stiles was too sick to take her to school, but to everybody else, he was an actual hero.

"That's not good," Scott eventually spoke.

"No shit," Isaac replied, making Stiles shoot a glare in his direction.

Harper glanced over at the other werewolf, not sure what to entirely think of the Lahey man. Lydia had told her that after Rose had died, she'd lived with Melissa and Scott, and Isaac lived with them too soon after. Apparently the three of them were legally siblings, but Harper was still having a hard time trying to wrap her head around the entire situation. In her world, she'd only spoken to the blue-eyed man a few times and Scott and Stiles had warned her to stay away.

"Calm down, guys," Allison sighed, rolling her dark eyes. "Scott's right. This isn't good. If we don't figure something out soon then people will start getting scared again, and you know what happened last time."

"What happened last time?" Harper asked, only to get ignored as Malia groaned.

"How the hell are we supposed to comfort these people?" She folded her arms across her chest. "It shouldn't be our jobs."

"But it is," Scott said determinedly, "All of our jobs. We protected this town for years, we have to do it again now."

"So we tell them there's nothing to be scared of," Lydia spoke from next to Harper. "Maybe we tell them that werewolves aren't the ones doing it."

...

Harper huffed from where she sat in the leather booth of a library that was also a coffee shop. Stiles was across the room in a small line waiting for the photocopier, tapping his foot impatiently while Scott stood next to him talking. She felt so out of place as she tapped her nails against the coffee mug wrapped in her hands.

"No way. Is that you, Verum?"

The Empath nearly jumped out of her seat when she heard a very familiar voice. She turned in her seat to see none other than Coach Finstock stood there, dressed in gym uniform with a takeaway cup in his hand. He definitely looked older than when Harper had seen him a few days ago, but not that much older.

"It is you!" His voice was loud as he held his hand out, shaking her smaller one.

"H-Hi, Coach Finstock," Harper forced a small smile. "Yeah, it's me. Harper."

"No shit! You look exactly the same as you did in high school," he scoffed as he looked at her, shaking his head. "You know, it's uncanny."

Harper nervously chuckled, "Thanks... I moisturise?"

Coach Finstock raised his eyebrows. "I need to get me some of that..."

Harper glanced over the older man's shoulders and saw Scott and Stiles starting to worriedly look over, but she just shot them a look as if to say 'it's fine'. Finstock started to rant about how much he hated the current lacrosse team, all of which Harper smiled and nodded to.

"Never had players like McCall and Dunbar when they left," Finstock shook his head and looked into the distance dramatically. "Hey, how is Liam?"

The brunette didn't have a clue who Liam was. "He's good," Harper lied. "Yeah, still into lacrosse and stuff."

"Good, good," Finstock's watch started to beep and he huffed. "Ugh. Gotta get my steps up to 10,000 in the next three hours or my therapist will go psycho on me again. See you around though, Verum. Or is it Stilinski by now?"

She forced a small chuckle. "Still Verum. Yeah, you too, C- Bobby," Harper nearly cringed saying it, especially considering the fact that in her world, he was still her gym teacher.

"Oh!" He paused in his tracks before he could jog towards the escalator. "I almost forgot. Some guy asked if I knew you a couple days ago. I said you didn't live here anymore but now you're back I guess I can pass it on, if he hasn't already got a hold of you."

Harper's brows furrowed. "Who was it?"

"Ah, dammit. Forgot his name. He's real tall, dark hair, dark eyes, kinda pale... Calum something maybe?" Finstock scratched his chin before his entire face lit up. "Oh, Calum Davis! Yeah, he told me he was looking for you."

She had no idea who Calum Davis was either.

"Oh, thanks," Harper smiled slightly. "I'll give him a call."

She watched as Coach took off up the escalator, hissing profanities as he smashed his watch that was beeping at him again. And as Stiles and Scott came over with the copies they had of some book they'd found in Eichen House, Harper completely forgot about Liam and Calum, not even bothering to ask her best friends who they were.

...

"Where did you even find this rubbish?" Harper scoffed as she flipped the pages of the copy Scott and Stiles had made for her. "Whoever's written it sounds way too obsessed with the supernatural."

Stiles glanced across at the teenage girl, finding it so incredibly ironic that she was saying it about her own father's work. Of course, nobody was telling Harper that. She had no idea that her dad had faked his own death and then died again right in front of her, and nobody intended on telling her. She'd already suffered with Rose.

"No idea," Scott chewed his lip before averting his eyes back down to the pages in his own lap.

"I have a question," Harper announced loudly after a couple of minutes.

Over the past couple of days, the brunette had definitely grown more comfortable with her older friends. She still did double-takes every now and then, forgetting she was eight years into the future. Sometimes, as she glanced over at the shaggy-haired Stilinski man, she almost grew sad that the version of the boyfriend she knew didn't exist anymore. He wasn't waiting for her because who she was right now didn't even exist anymore either.

"Shoot," Stiles deadpanned.

"Lydia's a banshee, right?" Harper asked, earning a nod from the two men in front of her who sat side by side on the worn-out couch of the McCall residence. "Does that mean Lydia and I can-" she began to read slowly from the pages with squinted eyes, "'have a connected dream and bring back the lost soul'."

Scott and Stiles exchanged glances before Stiles furrowed his brows. "What are you reading right now?"

"It says Banshees and Empaths are connected," Harper simply spoke, shifting to show the older men the pages. "It says we can have connected dreams and bring people back from the dead."

"Oh," Stiles' hazel eyes seemed to soften as he realised what she was talking about. "Yeah, yeah. You and Lydia- yeah, you've done it before, actually."

There wasn't really a soft way of saying anything anymore. Harper had been told the worst news- her grandmother was dead, but that didn't mean they were going to bombard her with all the other shitty news like she would get shot, her boyfriend would be possessed by a demon that's obsessed with her, she'd be on a supernatural hit list and worth thirty-million... the list went on, really.

It didn't mean Harper couldn't handle it. Stiles had been thinking a lot about what Malia had said a couple of days ago, about Harper being the weakest member of the pack. He admitted internally that the werecoyote was right on a physical level, but emotionally... Stiles was pretty sure she was the strongest out of all of them. She was a freaking Empath, for god sake.

"We have?" Harper's brown eyes widened a little. "When?"

Scott felt his heart skip a beat in his chest as he placed his copy of the book down on the coffee table in front of him. He looked at the eagerness in her eyes and knew that she was probably hoping they brought back her grandmother, and it then that he really began to understand the significance of what Harper Verum had done.

She could have saved anyone, including the woman that had raised her and loved her unconditionally, but she chose Allison Argent instead. The love of his life, and one of her closest friends that had loved Harper enough to die for her too. Harper had almost given her life for Allison too.

Looking at her sat there, her brown eyes shining, and her dainty hands wringing each other, Scott remembered how young she was when she made that decision. That selfless, selfless decision. She didn't know any better, and Allison was one hundred percent right- even if it was temporary, not that Harper had even known, the past seven years had been some of the most amazing for Scott.

"You- you brought back Allison, Harper," Scott spoke softly, watching as Harper frowned deeply in confusion. "It's a really long story, one that you will remember soon anyway, but you picked her. You saved Allison."

Her lips parted like she wanted to ask more questions, but she shut them again and looked over at Stiles who nodded in confirmation, telling her Scott was telling the truth. Harper felt slightly guilty for wishing she'd brought back her grandmother, but she hadn't experienced the loss of Allison yet so she didn't know any different. Plus, the Rose wound was still very fresh.

"And I could only bring back one person?" She asked.

Stiles nodded, "Unfortunately."

There was a moment of silence before Harper flipped the pages again, continuing to read through the pages. Scott and Stiles hesitantly copied her actions, before they heard a small scoff escape her lips.

"Dread Doctors," she muttered under her breath, "What a stupid name..."

...

"The Bubak!"

Harper jumped, her eyes flickering open. She hadn't even realised she'd fallen asleep against the arm of the couch, but somebody had draped a blanket over her petite frame. She slowly pushed it off of her, seeing Stiles pacing the room, running a hand through his dark hair as he read from the pages in his hand.

"The Bubak, this must be it," Stiles said again, turning back to Scott who was sitting straight on the couch, frowning at his friend. "Listen to this!" His eyes caught sight of Harper. "Oh good, you're awake too. Listen, listen."

"'Mythical creatures of the Bogeyman type are a common occurrence in many cultures. These dark creatures are commonly imagined as monsters that punish children— and adults at times— for misbehaving and breaking taboos. The reasons they punish people are as varied as their punishments, that go from eating small children to stealing the soul of those who enter their territory.'" Stiles read aloud.

"But this thing doesn't eat small kids or steal souls," Scott frowned.

"Oh my gosh, Scott, shut up!" Harper scolded him and Scott nearly jumped.

"'Particularly, in the Czech Republic and Slovakia children are frightened by the Bubák, a creature without a typical form, but often represented as a scarecrow with a skeleton as frame, which is connected with darkness and scary places,'" Stiles added, "Darkness and scary places sound familiar?"

Scott nodded quickly. "Henderson's house was built on the supernatural graveyard."

Harper had no memory of anybody called Henderson but listened along eagerly anyway.

"'In the countryside children are warned the Bubák will come for them at night if they behave badly. This creature is usually described as resembling a creepy scarecrow, often made of old bones, wearing a heavy black coat where it hides the children it steals. According to legend, the Bubák could cry like an innocent, unprotected baby to lure its victims to their deaths'," Stiles read, "This sounds exactly like the thing we're looking for."

Scott picked the book up and began to read too. "Some of the most popular tales regarding the Bubák take place on a full moon night, that is when the Bubák weaves cloth from the souls of those he has killed collected by the moths.'"

Harper swallowed thickly. "So this is what the Nogitsune possessed?"

Stiles nodded eagerly, "I'm nearly a hundred percent sure."

"Why though?"

"My best guess is that this thing was just waiting for something to possess it," Stiles muttered, "When I was possessed, the Nogitsune took over my body but I was still there. I could take back control when I concentrated hard and when it was weak. The Bubak must be able to do the same. The Nogitsune brought it back to life and it gets its own revenge... like some sort of deal or partnership."

Scott glanced towards his two best friends. "That means we have until the next full moon to beat this thing."

"Another problem with that," Harper raised a hand, making the True Alpha nod at her. "In case you've somehow forgotten, your wedding is the night after."

"Allison's gonna go even more bridezilla," Scott ran a hand through his hair. "This means we have to sort this before then. And... And maybe it's best we keep this between the three of us for a bit, let her freak out about the wedding, not... whatever this is."

Stiles smirked a little, "Like old times?"

Scott scoffed a little before he nodded with an amused smile. "Just like old times."

///


	20. Chapter 20

Scott and Allison's wedding was fast approaching and to say Allison was stressed would be an understatement. Lydia was trying to calm her down from where the tall brunette was pacing up and down her living room carpet, meanwhile, Malia and Harper both stared with wide eyes from the leather couch.

"The wedding is in three weeks, Lydia!" Allison practically heaved for air as the strawberry blonde finally managed to grab her by the shoulders and hold her still. "This whole supernatural mess hasn't been sorted out yet, more people are dead, and my wedding planner is not returning my calls!"

"She's probably just busy," Lydia frowned, nearly glancing over her shoulder to ask Harper for help before remembering the state she was in.

The teenage girl looked slightly traumatised, having no idea beforehand how stressful a wedding could really be. Harper always thought when hers would come around she wouldn't be one of those 'bridezillas'. Sure, she'd want it all cute and stuff, but she was sure that it wouldn't matter much so long as her friends and her groom were there and happy.

"Maybe she's ignoring your calls because you called her eighteen times last week," Malia huffed slightly, standing up and folding her arms across her stomach. "What else is there to even plan? Shouldn't you be sitting back and looking forward to it by now?"

"I just- I want everything to be perfect, okay?" Allison ran a hand through her dark locks. "My dad only got his suit yesterday. Can you believe that?"

"There's still three weeks," Malia shrugged. "He's fine. It's all gonna be fine."

Harper felt slightly guilty knowing that she was hiding information from the three women, but Scott said he didn't want Allison to be even more stressed with the whole Bubak situation- if that was what they were calling it now.

After Stiles had dropped Harper back to the temporary apartment she shared with Lydia, Harper had stayed up all night researching the thing. Not a lot came up, but the pictures on Google Images were enough to haunt her.

She watched as Lydia began to stroke Allison's back, watching as the brunette calmed down significantly. Harper stared between the three women, wondering how she was so close with three completely different personalities. The four of them were so different, especially Malia, but she guessed that's what probably bonded them so much.

Lydia was assertive and bold, while Malia was edgy and blunt, and Allison was confident and sweet. Harper wasn't sure if she was the same in eight years as she was now, but she guessed she was probably the clumsy, friendly one. She didn't necessarily hate that.

"I gotta go," Harper stood up, making them all look over at her. "Scott and Stiles were gonna take me to Deaton about this whole... teenager thing I guess."

"Do you need someone to take you?" Allison frowned at her.

"Um... No, but thank you," Harper had a hard time trying to convince them that she was sixteen and not six sometimes. "I'll see you guys later."

"See you at home," Lydia called as Harper moved to the front door, the brunette nearly freezing as she placed her hand on the doorknob.

Home.

Home to her was still with Rose Verum in the middle of Beacon Hills. It wasn't in whatever apartment she supposedly owned in Manhattan, or in the one she shared temporarily with Lydia. She blinked and forced herself to open the door, welcoming the fresh air that washed her skin as she closed it behind her.

Harper couldn't remember how to drive so she walked down the pavement happily enough. It was midday so the sun was up high in the sky, kissing her tan skin and brightening the dark locks sat on her head. She loved this kind of weather so much, fiddling with the mom shorts on her legs to pull them down a little.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket and she pulled it out, expecting to see either Stiles' or Scott's contacts on her screen, but finding an unknown number instead. She nearly paused in her tracks as she frowned but clicked 'decline'. Less than thirty seconds later, they were calling again.

She hesitated before she pressed 'accept' and held the device up to her ear. This phone was far bigger than the one she had had as a teenager, and much to Harper's surprise, it did not have a home button. It had taken her so long to work out how to even unlock it, making her older friends laugh way too much.

"Hello?" She hesitated to speak into the phone.

"Harper?" An unfamiliar voice came from the other end. "God, you have no idea how worried I've been about you. I've been trying to reach you for nearly two weeks now."

"Um, I'm sorry, who is this?" The brunette asked politely as she turned a corner, heading to the animal clinic which wasn't too far away now.

She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach as the man spoke. While his tone showed concern and stress, the Empath couldn't help but feel like it wasn't genuine, or it was exaggerated. Harper trusted her Empathic instincts.

"It's me, it's Calum," the man said and Harper remembered what Coach Finstock had said.

"Oh, of course," Harper played along, pretending like she knew whoever she was conversing with. "Yeah, sorry, my phone broke and I only got it fixed this morning. Listen, do you mind if I call you back later?"

Later as in when I'm eight years older and actually know who you are, Harper thought with a wince on her face.

"I want to see you, Harper," Calum pleaded, "I miss you."

"Ah, I'm go-" Harper held the speaker to her mouth and started to make strange noises. "Un- Under a- I'm under a tun- Gotta- Call you la- bye!"

She quickly hung up. "Yikes," she murmured, finally spotting the animal clinic in view and doing a little jog to get there quicker.

When she reached the building, she pulled the door open and forced a smile in the direction of Deaton, Scott, and Stiles who were stood around the operating table. She slipped her phone back into the pocket of her shorts, fiddling the belt as she moved over.

"Hi, sorry I'm a bit late," she sighed.

"That's fine, Harper," Deaton spoke calmly, just like always. "We want to do some stuff that might trigger the reversal of the age regression ritual a little quicker."

"Yeah, yeah, sounds good," Harper seemed distracted, which Stiles quickly picked up on.

He unfolded his strong arms from across his chest. "Hey," he called, making her glance at him. "What's wrong?"

"Who the hell is Calum Davis?"

Stiles seemed taken aback for a moment before he exchanged a look with Scott, and just from their expressions, Harper could tell that whoever the man that was on the phone with her was, he definitely wasn't good news.

"Why? What happened?" Stiles urged.

"He kept calling on a private number," Harper shrugged, "And when I saw Coach Finstock yesterday he told me he asked for me. I got bad vibes on the phone."

"Calum is your ex-boyfriend," Scott explained, "He's not really... the best."

Harper's brows raised. "Oh." She felt kind of awkward now.

Stiles saw the guilty expression on her face as clear as day. The brunette teenager was still very much in a relationship with teenage Stiles, so he knew why she must be feeling that way. Not only that, but he didn't know Lydia had told her about Stiles and Harper's current relationship.

"Don't answer again," Scott told her before he looked to Stiles. "Can I talk to you for a moment, dude?"

Stiles didn't hesitate to follow Scott out into the back room where some cats were kept in cages, leaving Harper with Deaton who immediately started to change the subject, talking about how they were going to try and trigger the process.

"Do you know what he did to her?" Scott asked, his voice barely above a murmur as he tried to keep it down so Harper didn't hear. "Did Harper tell you?"

Stiles nodded with a clenched jaw. "She told me he hit her."

Scott swallowed, "This isn't good, man. If he's in Beacon Hills then that's just another thing on our plate to worry about right now."

"I wouldn't know the dude if he walked past me," Stiles said. "Harper wouldn't right now either, not when she's a teenager."

"I can show you what he looks like?" Scott offered, an edge to his voice that was put there as if to comfort his best friend. "But the only pictures I have of him are with Harper, obviously."

Stiles hesitated. The Stilinski man wasn't sure if he wanted to see pictures of Harper with another man, knowing she had spent five months of her life with him, the two of them making each other happy.

Sure, before she'd been aged down she'd reassured him that she never loved Calum, but it didn't really make it any better- especially when Calum definitely wanted everything to do with her.

On the other hand, Stiles wanted to look. Out of pure curiosity and so that he knew who Calum Davis was if he ever saw him around Beacon Hills, where he was apparently hanging around now. The fact that he'd followed her across the entire country after what he'd done was terrifying to Stiles. He clearly had no respect for Harper and that made Stiles' blood boil.

"Show me," Stiles replied, blinking as he mentally prepared himself.

Scott pulled his phone out and went straight to his text messages with Harper, her contact the same one it had been since she changed it in their senior year. He scrolled through until he landed on some pictures she'd sent over. He passed it to Stiles and let him look for himself. 

HARPS (THE BEST SISTER EVER!):   
Scott! This was the ice cream parlour I was telling you about last week. You and Allison better get your arses down here right now.

Stiles barely skimmed the text that gave the pictures some context. She'd taken a picture of some monster of an Oreo sundae, but sat on the other side of the booth with a grin on his face was who Stiles guessed was this Calum Davis character.

His dark hair sort of curled towards the front and he was kind of pale, his high cheekbones defined as his brown eyes clearly concentrated on the person behind the camera— Harper.

Stiles remembered Harper telling him that the way Calum partially resembled Stiles a little is what had drawn her to him, and Stiles could kind of see it, but this guy looked far more mature and grownup.

He swiped, his hazel eyes glaring at a new picture of Harper and Calum stood in front of the ice cream parlour. It seemed to be a popular tourist attraction, lots of people walking around them, but they were clearly the subject of the photo.

He was far taller than her, just like every person in her life, her head resting on his arm and his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. She was wearing the yellow sundress Stiles loved on her.

"Are you okay?" Scott hesitated to ask.

"It's weird," Stiles forced himself to nod and passed the phone back, unable to look anymore. "Seeing her with someone else."

"You were together for nearly seven years and she's the only woman you've ever loved," Scott tried to comfort him. "Of course it's normal you feel that way."

"If he comes near her..." Stiles gritted his teeth, shaking his head to rid the thoughts infiltrating his brain. "I swear, Scott. He seems like some sort of psycho. Who follows someone across a country after they dump them?"

Scott shuddered, glancing up at Stiles. "Someone that's obsessed."

...

"How do these pictures make you feel, Harper?" Deaton asked, pointing to the album on the table in front of the teenage girl.

"Good?" Harper wasn't sure how to reply, pointing at one of her, Scott and Stiles at a bowling alley. "I have this one on my bedside table... or did."

"This isn't working," Stiles groaned, grabbing the photo album and slamming it shut. "That's the fiftieth photo you've pointed at, doc. She doesn't look any older to me."

Harper raised a brow. "Technically I am," she gave him a sly grin. "Every second that passes, I age. You too."

"Smartass," Stiles muttered before he looked over at Derek who stood with his arms folded across his chest by the doorway. "How did you turn back?"

"I got angry," Derek recalled.

It was still strange to see him conversing with Scott and Stiles so naturally. He'd been okay towards Scott when Scott was first bitten, but when he started biting Isaac and Erica, Harper decided she didn't like him again. Now he seemed totally fine, even trying to help Harper get back to normal. A lot must have happened.

"So we get Harper angry?" Scott frowned.

Deaton seemed deep in thought for a moment. "No. Derek changed back because he couldn't control his anger when he was a teenager. The battle for control as he shifted is what made him turn back."

"So what's Harper's equivalent?" Stiles asked, glancing at the teenage girl who was listening intently.

Derek's eyes lit up in realisation. "She's an Empath... so pain."

Deaton agreed, "Harper couldn't control what she felt and didn't feel at this stage if I remember correctly."

"Wait, wait, wait," Harper held a finger up. "So what are you gonna do? Hurt me?"

"Not you..."

...

"Argh!"

Scott's entire face scrunched up as he cried out in pain, his eyes screwed shut as they glowed bright red behind his eyelids. An insane amount of guilt infiltrated Harper's system as she watched Derek's claws twist into Scott's stomach even deeper, but she was quickly cut off by a sickening sensation in her own stomach.

"Ah, ah, ah!" The teenage girl pulled the top she was wearing up, her tan stomach becoming home to bloody marks belonging to Scott.

Stiles stood beside Deaton, chewing his thumb nail as he watched both of his best friends wither in pain, praying that this would be enough to get Harper to shift back. Beads of sweat dripped from Scott's hairline and down his forehead as he snapped his eyes open and glared at Derek.

"It's not working," he growled, his voice muffled from the fangs that were prominent in his mouth.

Harper continued to whimper, trying desperately to shut the connection off but to no avail. She'd never been able to do it before, so she wasn't even sure why she was trying, all she knew was that the pain in her stomach wasn't like any period cramp she'd ever endured before.

"Stop, stop, stop," Harper wheezed, feeling like she was going to be sick.

Derek took a second too long to retract his claws, causing Stiles to speak up. "She said stop!"

"I have," the older werewolf sent a small glare towards the Stilinski man as the crimson liquid dripped down his fingers and onto the floor below.

Scott heaved for a breath but felt his tissues quickly working to repair his broken skin. Harper could feel it too, feeling some sort of relief as she slumped back, exhausted, her head falling against Stiles' arm from where he'd moved next to her.

"You two okay?" He glanced between the pair of non-blood relatives.

They both nodded back to him as Scott grabbed a wet cloth off of the side, tossing it to Harper and taking another for himself. By the time he'd wiped the mess away, his stomach was back to normal and so was Harper's. She couldn't even feel where Derek's claws had been.

"The pain thingy did not work," Harper muttered bitterly.

Deaton thought for a moment. "Perhaps it's not physical pain that will trigger it, but emotional pain."

The Empath went silent as she considered what the druid had said. It definitely made sense that that would be her trigger, but she'd already endured emotional pain. Finding out that her grandmother was dead had been a whack straight to the heart. She'd sobbed so hard when Stiles had told her that she thought she was going to suffocate.

"So we need to give Harper emotional pain now?" Stiles rubbed his temples.

"It's worse than physical," Deaton nodded.

"How could anything be worse than my grandma dying?" Harper questioned with a frown. "Surely if that was the case I would have turned back by now."

Derek folded his arms across his chest and thought deeply, his brows furrowed. "What if you visited your grandmother's grave?" His eyes cast over to Deaton. "Could that be enough?"

"It sure could be."

"Problem with that," Stiles huffed, "Rose was buried in Brighton. As in, over five thousand miles away."

The teenage girl's lip wobbled as hot tears filled her eyes again. She had a Rose-shaped wound in her heart and it was still fresh. Scott smelt her chemosignals and his eyes softened as he moved over to her and grabbed the back of her hand which was resting on the table, giving it a small squeeze.

"I know something that might be worse," the werewolf murmured, "Or somewhere worse."

...

Harper wasn't sure why she was at Eichen House. As far as she was concerned, she'd never stepped foot inside the mental institution, it was merely the place her mother and father had been killed in. The unit that she'd been led down to was cold and dark, and Harper felt something spark inside her as she moved into a room with a patient bed and desks with stuff everywhere.

"This feels familiar," Harper admitted, making Stiles and Scott glance at each other. "I don't know how."

"You were here, Harper," Deaton spoke calmly as she sat down on the bed, glancing around at her, her eyes landing on leather arm straps. "Seven years ago, when you were seventeen."

The brunette blinked, trying desperately to remember. She knew whatever Deaton was about to say was going to hurt her, that was the whole point, so she had to fully submit herself. She had to let all her guards down.

"Harper... this is the room your mother died in," Deaton continued, hesitance behind his brown eyes which was definitely unusual to see from him. "In this room, you were held hostage for over a week and experimented on repeatedly, abused emotionally and physically while Lydia listened beside you."

Harper's breath hitched in her throat, feeling her heart start to pound in her chest. She was more concerned with the fact that her own mother was murdered in this room than the fact that she had supposedly been tested on. She felt sick to her stomach, her brown eyes whirling around as if looking for any blood stains her mother could have left behind.

"The person who experimented on you, Harper... Was your father, Gabriel Valack."

Harper's face was scrunched up as she stared at him incredulously. "My dad's dead."

"He wasn't," Deaton replied, "He murdered your mother, and he nearly murdered you too."

"She died in this very room, you know," her father's voice rang in her ears, making Harper visibly flinch and cower back. "Are you able to feel her pain? When you focus on it?"

Stiles watched in concern as the teenage girl seemed to experience something nobody else could hear. Deaton stopped talking, studying curiously the way Harper's brown eyes flickered over to the empty chair beside the bed, like she could see someone.

Harper couldn't see her father, but she could hear him. This wasn't her mind playing tricks on her, and no way was one of the men playing a prank. That was her father's voice as clear as day, the tone and pitch and accent down to a T.

"Can you?" His voice came out much harsher, sounding like it was underwater in Harper's ears.

"Can you hear-" Harper's question to everybody else in the room was cut off when she heard her own voice now.

"No! No, and I don't want to, either! You can't keep me here. You can't do this to me! My friends will figure it out, you bastard!"

Suddenly, Harper felt a large palm smack against her face and she gasped, touching her cheek. Deaton certainly hadn't reached out to strike her, leaving her with a whirling mind of frantic thoughts and theories.

"Wha- What's happening?" Harper's eyes began to glaze over as she looked to her best friends now. "I can hear myself and my dad."

"It's working," Deaton answered for Scott and Stiles before looking at them. "We need something better, something stronger."

Stiles hated being in this room more than anybody right now. The memories of Harper being tied down to the bed, her skin bruised and her head bleeding as she cried out filled his head, still fresh all these years later. He hesitated to answer Deaton, but he knew it was important if he ever wanted the real Harper back- and he did- he needed her, even.

"He used to trick you," Stiles' voice nearly wobbled. "He used to pretend to be me and then he'd hurt you. When- When I found you, you didn't believe it was me at first."

Harper felt her heart ache more at the sight of Stiles being hurt in front of her than the fact that she'd been manipulated. It was hard for her to believe when she was still so convinced her father was six foot under and always had been, but seeing the man in front of her and feeling his anxiety was real and raw.

"Do you remember?"

"Do you remember?" Harper heard Stiles' voice repeated in her head, underwater like her father's had been. "I mean, of course you do, but- but do you remember how happy we were?"

"Of course," she heard her own sob. "I just can't keep it, Stiles. You should- you should sell it or something."

Harper was confused, her own heart breaking as the emotions in the air thickened. She was almost suffocating on sadness and heartbreak, glancing down at her own hand as she felt something slowly slip off of her ring finger. She felt a warmth in her hand, definitely a ring, and then it was gone.

"I'm doing this because I love you," she heard her own voice again. "And I always will be so in love with you, Stiles Stilinski."

"I know. I will always love you too, Harper. Always."

Harper glanced up, blinking away tears as everything came rushing back all at once. She winced, her brain aching in her skull as she held her head in her hands, quickly ducking back down.

Flashing images of her pulling her engagement ring off her finger and putting it in Stiles' hand filled her brain. The way his cheeks were just as wet as hers. Her suitcase waiting by the door filled with only a fraction of her stuff.

"Harper?"

The brunette glanced up one more time, her teary eyes widening as she looked around the room.

"What the hell are we doing at Eichen House?"

Scott and Deaton released sighs of relief while Stiles rushed to her, wrapping the woman in his arms. Harper clung back to Stiles, blinking in confusion as her chin pressed against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne.

Harper was back to normal.


	21. Chapter 21

To say the least, Harper was a little dazed. During her blackout, apparently she'd been sixteen again for a full three or four days. Not only was that quite hard for her brain to comprehend, but Scott and Stiles had also told her about the Bubak situation and that her ex-boyfriend was trying to contact her again. It felt like she'd woken up from a five-minute nap and had everything sprung on her all at once.

"You okay?" Stiles asked, watching as Harper blinked with furrowed brows.

"Yeah, yeah," she waved her hand dismissively at him. "Kind of just thinking what next?"

"Well, my dad's holding a meeting where he's gonna try and reassure everybody that this isn't, well, you guys causing this," Stiles scratched his chin. "Scott's gonna speak there, so's Argent and Derek. The whole Bubak thing... We don't really have a clue right now."

Harper paused as she thought over his words, not really gaining as much reassurance from him as she had previously hoped. She ran her fingers over her lips, glancing up at him with some nervousness behind her eyes.

"What about Calum?" She asked.

Stiles' heart sunk when he read her features. "Are you scared of him?"

While he didn't exactly want Harper to be friendly with her ex, it also made Stiles feel pretty downcast that someone she'd trusted had just abused her kind nature like that and made her feel weak and vulnerable. While Stiles had only ever been in one relationship before, it had been a long one, and he couldn't even dream of hurting his significant other.

"Not scared... More concerned," Harper replied, choosing her words carefully. "I don't know, he just seemed to flip a switch when I told him I was coming back to Beacon Hills."

"When he hit you?" Stiles' eyes softened.

Harper nodded. "I kicked him out straight after and I nearly broke his nose, but he came to my apartment the next day. He was in my bedroom when I came out of the bathroom, just waiting for me."

Stiles felt like a bucket of cold water had been drenched over him. "Shit, Harper. This dude sounds like a total nutcase."

"Maybe he is, that's why I'm concerned," Harper replied forcefully. "But maybe he isn't. I don't know."

"Nope, definitely a nutcase."

"Okay, I get it," the British woman huffed, practically glaring at Stiles and making him frown in surprise.

"What's up with you?"

"I don't know, maybe I'm on edge because I just got kidnapped and turned eight years younger and now I'm being told my ex-boyfriend is a psychopath who's not finished with me yet," Harper snapped, standing up from the couch and running a hand through his hair. "I don't wanna- I just wanna ignore it all."

"Well, you can't."

"I know!" She glared at Stiles. "Do you know how humiliated I feel right now?"

Stiles was taken aback by her choice of words. "Humiliated?" He repeated, confused.

"I feel so dumb," Harper dropped back down into her seat, hanging her head in her hands as Stiles watched her curiously. "And weak and stupid and shitty."

She half-expected Stiles to leave after her small outburst, so she was surprised when she felt his large hand on one of her arms and then she was being pulled into his body. Harper's breath hitched as her arms were forced apart and he was tucking her face against his chest.

"You are not weak," Stiles reassured her, nearly furious at the suggestion. "Or dumb and you shouldn't feel embarrassed. Calum's clearly a manipulator, it's what men like him do to feel powerful. And now he's gonna try and waltz back into your life again, but you're strong, Harper. You're not gonna let him."

"I know," Harper whispered, exhaling in defeat. "I don't just feel embarrassed about that, though. I hate the whole Kate situation. How she was able to just kidnap me so easily. I couldn't even defend myself, Stiles."

"You did stab her," the Stilinski man reminded Harper. "If she was a human, she wouldn't have stood a chance."

"But when do I ever have to defend myself against humans, Sti?" She whispered glumly, casting her eyes to the carpeted floor below.

"Hopefully after we sort the Bubak situation, it's all you'll ever have to defend yourself from again," Stiles spoke. "Harper, I know you don't feel like it, but you're the strongest person I've ever met, and I've worked with so many people over the past few years. Maybe you can't scream people to death like Lydia or throw two-hundred-pound men around like Scott, but you've been through more than any of us. And look at you. Look what you've done for yourself, look how successful you are."

There was a small silence before Harper looked into Stiles' hazel eyes, sensing nothing but sincerity. Her heart swelled and she lifted her head off of his chest, her small hand grabbing his. She rubbed her thumb over the softness of his skin and opened her mouth to speak, but not managing to find the right words.

"You always know what to say," she eventually murmured with an almost sad smile. "You're the only person in the world that can make me feel better every single time."

Stiles didn't say anything but his facial features said it all. He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, his heart pounding when Harper kissed back immediately. His large hand grabbed just above her elbow and he pushed her back a little, using his other hand to grab behind her head and hold her in place.

He parted from her briefly. "I still-" Stiles couldn't speak before her lips were on his again like she could only breathe if they were connected. "I'm still-"

Before Stiles could finish his sentence, they heard the doorbell ring. Both adults pulled away from each other like the other was on fire, or like they were teenagers scared of getting caught. Harper wiped her mouth and adjusted her hair as Stiles climbed off of her, glancing over his shoulder at the door.

"Are you expecting someone?" Harper questioned.

"No. Maybe my dad was and he forgot," Stiles shrugged.

Harper stopped him before he could reach the door, leaning on her tiptoes to brush his hair out with her fingers so it didn't look like he'd just had a pair of hands in them for two minutes. He gave her a grateful look and headed for the door, his hand reaching the handle.

Before his fingers could even brush the metal, Harper's stomach lurched and she froze.

"Stiles!" She hissed in a panic, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away. "Don't open the door."

"Wha- Why?" Stiles stared at her in confusion.

"I have a bad feeling," she swallowed, slowly pulling him back so they were further away. "Like, a really bad feeling."

As if on cue, Harper and Stiles flinched as the sound of a baby crying filled their ears. It came from the doorstep and sent shivers down their spines. Harper recalled going through Henderson's last moments. He'd heard the baby crying and it had lured him outside to his death.

"It's out there," Harper whispered shakily, not peeling her eyes off of the door. "The Bubak's outside."

Stiles' arm moved in front of Harper as if to keep her back, but the brunette was already moving to her phone that rested on the coffee table. His hazel eyes peeled from the door to see what she was doing, his heart pounding heavier each time the 'baby' cried louder.

"Harper, get my dad's gun," Stiles warned her lowly as she quickly pressed Scott's contact in her phone. "Stay away from the windows."

While the device beeped in her hand, Harper obeyed him and started to head for the stairs, running up them as fast as she could without being too loud. Perhaps it didn't matter if it heard them, though. Harper was pretty sure the Bubak already knew they were inside.

"Hey, Harper. You okay?" She heard the soft voice of Scott.

"No," Harper breathed shakily, putting him on speaker as she dropped the phone on the floor of Noah's bedroom, kneeling down by his bed where the safe was. "Scott, you need to get to Stiles' dad's house right now. Bring Isaac and Malia- anyone with fucking claws, I don't care."

Her heart raced as she punched in Noah's birthdate, cursing quietly as it beeped and remained locked. She didn't think as her trembling fingers pressed '040896'- Stiles' birthday- nearly closing her eyes in relief as she heard the lock unclick.

"Harper, what's going on?" He sounded far more alert now, and she could faintly hear him shuffling around in the background.

"The Bubak," Harper struggled to get words out as she reached into the safe and grabbed a pistol, wrapping her fingers around the weapon. "It's outside the house trying to get us to come out and Stiles is downstairs. I need to- I need'ta get downstairs and help him."

"Okay, okay. Um, stay calm and, ur, fuck!" Scott cursed as he dropped his keys and she heard Allison's voice in the background asking him what was wrong. "Shit, okay, okay. Harper, you and Stiles, you keep each other safe and I'll be there. We'll all be there."

"Okay," Harper breathed, already halfway down the steps.

Stiles moved over and grabbed the gun from her hands, taking the safety off and aiming it at the door with his jaw clenched and his eyes focused. He looked like some sort of badass from a film, which was a strange and scary sight to see. Harper wondered briefly if he'd ever had to shoot anyone at work.

"I need to hang up to call the others," Scott's voice gathered her attention once more. "I'll be there. I promise."

Harper's phone beeped as Scott disconnected. She opened her mouth to ask Stiles what to do next, freezing when the baby's cries stopped. The brunette's eyes widened and she swallowed thickly, noticing how Stiles nearly flinched, his grip on the gun tightening.

They were left in silence, but it was still out there.

The tension was so thick that Harper was nearly suffocating on it, her mind whirling with a thousand thoughts a minute as she began to think that they were screwed.

"Harper, move back into the kitchen," Stiles warned her quietly.

"No, Stiles-"

"Harper," he hissed more forcefully, shrugging her hands off of his arm as she grabbed him.

"No, Stiles, listen to me," Harper snapped quietly at him, causing him to temporarily look from the door to her. "If Peter could barely save himself, we're not gonna be able to either."

Stiles' stance seemed to falter as he clenched his jaw, knowing Harper was right. His large hand moved to hold her arm and he pushed her in the direction of the kitchen, following so close behind that she could feel his chest on her back, his breaths on top of her head.

"Should we try and escape through the back?" Harper asked.

"I don't know," he admitted. "If it gets in we will."

Stiles wasn't sure whether or not to unlock it in case they had to bolt it. Unlocking it could just welcome the Bubak into his father's home, but leaving it locked could screw them over in the future if it came through the front. His hazel eyes remained barely blinking on the kitchen door, his ears listening out the best he could for any noises.

"Do you hear that?" Harper suddenly whispered.

The Stilinski man didn't reply but strained his ears. He froze when he heard the sound of something scraping across glass, realising it was coming from the kitchen window. It was pitch black outside meaning they couldn't see whatever was outside, but the lights were on- it could see them.

Harper took a couple steps back and hit the light switch, plunging them into darkness. Stiles moved closer towards her, the pistol now pointed at the window where they could just about make out the figure of the Bubak stood there, idly tracing its claws along the window.

"It's gonna get in," Stiles started to back up, Harper moving with him. "How far is Scott?"

"I don't know," Harper's voice trembled slightly. "Stiles, I have something to tell you."

"No, don't," Stiles couldn't really see her in the dark, but could feel the warmth of her small frame beside him as they tried to move from the kitchen. "Nothing's gonna happen to us, Harper."

Harper attempted to convince herself of Stiles' words, but before she could even reply, the sound of glass smashing echoed in their ears and caused them to spring into action. The brunette released a small yelp as Stiles started to shoot, yelling at Harper to start running.

Then, the front door was being kicked open and suddenly Scott appeared, his eyes glowing red and his fangs and claws sharp and threatening. He growled at the Bubak, trying not to show hesitation as his eyes cast on the supernatural creature.

It was just as terrifying as Harper and Lydia had described it, perhaps even more so now that it stood on the other side of his two best friends, long claws trailing down to the ground. Its milky eyes seemed to lift from Harper and Stiles and over to Scott, the dark hollowness of its mouth twitching up into a small smirk as if to say 'finally, a challenge'.

Harper grabbed Stiles and pulled him out of the way so Scott could charge forwards. He jumped into the air, landing on the nearly seven-foot monster and attempting to twist its skull as hard as he could. It had no flesh for him to swipe or scratch into, so Scott was trying to work with what he had.

"Where's the others?" Stiles yelled, knowing Scott didn't stand a chance without them.

"Right here," Malia growled, sprinting forward to help.

Isaac and Derek followed suit, the three werewolves and the werecoyote doing their best to avoid the Bubak's claws and cause as much damage as possible. Harper and Stiles gaped at the side, their hands clasping each other as they watched Isaac get shoved away, his body crashing into the wooden staircase and causing the bannister to crumble.

"Fuck," Stiles winced, "My dad is not gonna be happy."

Isaac brushed off the dust from himself and didn't hesitate to jump straight back into the fight, snarls and growls filling the air among the swiping of claws. Harper heard the pained cries of her friends every now and then, making her wince.

"Stiles, we have to do something," Harper panicked, "They're gonna lose."

Stiles was running a hand through his shaggy hair, thinking the exact same thing. Before he could even make a suggestion, the Bubak released some sort of demonic wail and threw his arm out, meeting Scott's stomach. Harper gasped, feeling the True Alpha's injury on a lesser scale on her own body.

"Scott!" Malia yelled, watching him stumble back before quickly turning to Derek. "What do we do?"

Derek didn't reply as he narrowly dodged the Bubak and Harper noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Moths were starting to stick to the windows of the Stilinski household, only a dozen at first, before there were hundreds. She remembered what Stiles had told her- they were here to collect a body.

"Harper, wait right here," Stiles' eyes widened as he formed some sort of plan inside his head, forcing the gun into both her hands before running off.

"Oh bloody hell," she muttered, glancing between Stiles and her friends who were struggling.

Less than a minute later, the Stilinski man returned and this time with chains in his hands. Harper recognised them from when they used to help Scott and then Malia with their full moons, but she wasn't sure where he was going with it. Was he going to suggest they try and capture this thing? It was absolutely massive, looming over them all.

"Derek!" Stiles yelled to the werewolf closest to him, gathering his attention. "Swing this, break its claws."

Harper's eyes lit up in realisation. Stiles' plan might actually work, seeing as it was all the Bubak was currently working with. Derek caught the thick chains and stared at them in his hands for a couple of seconds before he began to swing it like Stiles had told him to. It made loud swiping noises, nearly catching Isaac who dodged it just in time.

After swinging it for a moment or two, the Bubak's attention diverted to the oldest werewolf and it started to move over, swiping at Sheriff Stilinski's couch and tearing it up in the process. Stiles winced, praying that his plan would work as Derek swung the chains as hard as he possibly could, connecting it with the Bubak's claws.

A demonic wail filled the air, followed by screeching, and then something clattered to the floor. One of its claws had fallen to the floor, a black liquid dripping with it. Harper's hand moved over her mouth as the pack seemed to gain some confidence, Derek aiming again and managing to get another claw off.

Before anybody could strike again, the Bubak's other arm flung out and he swiped anything in its reach, colliding with the wall and making picture frames fall. It took off back out the hole in the kitchen window it had made before, shattering even more of the glass.

"Scott," Stiles quickly moved to his best friend, seeing the way he was clutching his stomach.

"It's laced with wolfsbane," Malia quickly alerted them, "It's claws, I mean. Melissa said Peter took so long to recover because of it."

"We gotta burn it out," Derek insisted.

Scott groaned, his head falling back as his friends guided his weak body to the floor. "Not again."

...

Malia and Isaac had held down Scott's arms while Derek used Sheriff Stilinski's blowtorch to get the wolfsbane out of Scott's system. It took a few minutes and Scott was gritting his teeth and yelling the entire time, but eventually Derek decided that Scott was going to be fine.

Harper brushed some of his sweaty hair off of his forehead, sending the McCall man a small smile which he returned, his tattooed arm slumped over his bare stomach which was in the process of healing. It was happening quicker than humanly possible, but a little slower than supernaturally.

"You okay?" She asked him. "Allison's on her way, by the way."

"I'm fine," Scott breathily chuckled. "Are you two okay?"

Harper glanced across the room at Stiles who was standing with his father, the two of them picking up the photo frames that had fallen. Sheriff Stilinski had yelled and ranted as soon as he saw the state of his home, but in the end, he was just glad his son and his friends were okay.

"We're good, thanks to you," Harper insisted.

"Harper, I wanna apologise for everything," Scott muttered, trying to push himself up a little and groaning as he did so.

"Hey," Harper pushed him back down gently, her hand on his shoulder. "Relax, lay down. You need to heal."

"I've been a really shitty best friend and brother recently," Scott admitted as he obeyed, nestling his head back against the pillow she'd propped up for him. "I was stressed about Allison, but that's no excuse to treat you the way I did. It's not your fault."

"You're a dumbass, McCall," Harper squinted her eyes at him playfully, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You always have been one and you always will be one."

He pouted. "So you forgive me?"

"Obviously, idiot," the brunette grinned.

Scott smiled back, knowing that with Harper and him finally on good terms and Liam on the way home, his pack would finally be whole again.

And then, maybe then, they might be strong enough to save Beacon Hills one last time.


	22. Chapter 22

Reporters lined the front of the stage where Sheriff Stilinski stood behind a wooden podium, talking to Deputy Parrish who stood to the side of him with a worried look on his face. Harper couldn't hear what he was saying from where she stood to the side of the stage next to her friends, but she just hoped everything was running smoothly.

Chatter was going on from the crowd, everybody waiting desperately to hear what Sheriff Stilinski had to say about all of the deaths happening in the town. Not only were reporters there to take notes and ask questions but there were hundreds of ordinary people who were terrified and confused.

A couple of days had gone by since the whole Bubak disaster at the Stilinski household and Stiles had spent that night at Harper and Lydia's apartment while Noah was welcomed in with Deputy Parrish. Harper had offered her temporary home to Noah, but he insisted he was fine.

Harper and Stiles hadn't done anything whilst he slept in her bed that night, the two just held each other, thankful they'd escaped the situation with no injuries. Noah's windows had been repaired by the next day and so Stiles was back home with his dad, but everyone had still met up yesterday to discuss the Bubak- nobody coming up with anything particuarly useful.

"Can I have your attention please?" Noah tapped the microphone, causing a wave of hushed whispers that slowly died out to silence, everybody staring expectantly. "I'm Beacon County, Sheriff Noah Stilinski. Over the past few weeks or so, as you would all know, members of our community have been found murdered around our town, Beacon Hills."

Harper had heard Sheriff Stilinski use his serious tone over the years so many times, but whenever he talked publicly like this, it was like he became a whole new person. He wasn't Stiles' dad or the man who helped her and her grandma pack up to go back to England for Rose's last few weeks, he was just Sheriff Stilinski. It was strange.

"Recently, the Sheriff's department have concluded that this is the cause of a supernatural creature-" His voice rose as the crowd started to clearly become panicked. "Silence, please! I will take questions at the end."

Stiles looked slightly nervous for his dad, a small frown on his face. He was up there trying to present all of his friends in a good light. One single wrong word could ruin the reputation of Scott, Harper... Everyone he cared about. Scott noticed the look on his face and squeezed his shoulder, giving him a reassuring look.

"This supernatural creature is called 'the Bubak'," Noah looked down briefly to look at his notes spread out. "Unlike the werewolves and other supernaturals residing in this town, the Bubak is a supernatural creature we should be wary of. From previous examples, we know that the Bubak tries to lure its victim out of their household at night-"

Sheriff Stilinski went on to tell the citizens of Beacon Hills the best ways to keep safe and whatnot, but Harper could only see the panic growing on their faces. She could feel the way they were scared and how they didn't completely believe when the Sheriff told them the solution was right around the corner.

Scott shot both his best friends a nervous smile as Sheriff Stilinski welcomed him to the stage, following Derek up. The two werewolves stood behind the podium, Derek holding a stone-cold expression while Scott tried to smile to ease the tension. Harper bit down on her bottom lip with a frown.

"We understand that a lot of you might be scared of your supernatural neighbours right now," Derek spoke into the microphone. "But we're here to tell you don't be. They're on the same side as you. They always have been, even before you knew we existed."

"Right now we need to work each other more than ever," Scott added, "We understand why you're concerned about us. The supernatural may be a new concept to all of you, but we're still the same people you knew before. We don't want to hurt you. We won't hurt you."

Harper knew there was still reluctance in the crowd. She wished more than anything that these people would accept them for who they were, but the residents of Beacon Hills were still confused with some aspects, and uncertainty leads to fear which leads to anger.

Derek and Scott only spoke for about a minute longer before Sheriff Stilinski asked if anybody had questions, causing a ripple of hands to go up in the crowds and a lot of irregular shouting. Noah looked completely exhausted, clearly holding back an eye roll as he pointed at a reporter at the front of the crowd.

She lifted the recording device to her lips. "How are the werewolves in Beacon Hills any different to the Beast that killed dozens eight years ago? Or the Kanima that killed citizens including Beacon County police officers?"

Sheriff Stilinski looked over at Scott who nodded and stepped back to the podium, not even wincing as other reporters yelled out in agreement, yelling things like 'my son was killed by an Oni eight years ago' or 'I don't feel safe sending my kids to Beacon Hills High'.

"When I was a teenager, I was bitten by a werewolf," Scott started, silencing everyone and making Harper and Stiles exchange a look. "I was sixteen-years-old and I was too scared to tell anybody, even my own mother. The only people who knew were my two best friends, who actually worked it out before me-" He chuckled absentmindedly at the memory before realising the reporter's face was stone cold serious, making him purse his lips. "Ur, but that's another story."

"I met this girl on my first day of sophomore year, and I fell in love," Scott continued, Allison's eyes growing soft from where she stood with the rest of the pack. "I didn't tell her I was a werewolf either. When she found out, she was terrified and angry. Actually, her family were hunters. So- so, yeah, that was kinda awkward. But she knew that before I was a werewolf, I was Scott McCall. And werewolf doesn't equal monster."

"I am a werewolf and my fiancee is a human and it doesn't matter. Her best friends are banshees, they're empaths, werecoyotes and werewolves. Despite everything she was taught, my fiancee learnt for herself that we're not what the books say. She fought by our sides for years when we were teenagers," Scott swallowed, "And my best friend is a human too, and he didn't for a minute doubt that we would hurt anyone."

"My point is... my friends- my pack- we're not just supernatural, we're human as well. And we looked after this town for years in the shadows," Scott scratched the back of his neck. "We were beaten and kidnapped and possessed and killed by Oni and Kanimas and other supernatural creatures to make sure people like you weren't. That's the difference."

...

"Scott's totally getting laid tonight," Isaac snickered, "Did you see the way Allison was looking at him through his entire speech?"

Harper raised her eyebrows at him as she typed away on her laptop, writing an email to one of her clients from work. The speech had gone well and put a lot of people's minds to rest. Scott even promised that the pack were going to help save as many people as they could.

"Speaking of getting laid..." Isaac continued, clearly bored from where he had been fiddling with one of the magazines Lydia had left on the coffee table. "What's up with you and Stiles?"

Harper scoffed. "I don't know, what's up with you and Malia?"

"Sexy stuff," Isaac wiggled his brows, a sly smile taking place on his face as he laid back on the couch, thinking of the werecoyote who was on her way over any minute now.

"Just 'sexy stuff'?" Harper quoted, cringing at the ironic phrase he'd used. "Or maybe romantic stuff too?"

"Just sexy."

"Oh, come on!" The brunette grinned, taking her laptop off of her legs and putting it to the side of her. "You can't just hook up with an ex and not catch any feelings for them. It's, like, inevitable."

Before Isaac could reply, the front door opened and Malia entered, Lydia and Stiles right behind her. All three looked stressed, making Harper frown in concern.

"Allison and Scott's wedding planner was killed," Lydia sighed. "About three days ago, too. Ally went over and found his body so she's pretty startled right now. Scott's helping her."

"Maybe Scott's not getting laid tonight, then," Isaac grumbled under his breath, earning a glare from Harper and a few confused looks from the other adults in the room.

"It's getting worse guys," Stiles sat down on the couch near Harper. "We need a plan and we need one as soon as possible."

"The Nogitsune is inside this thing," Malia murmured, "Maybe the first step is separating it?"

"We can't get in its head like we did with Stiles," Lydia shook her head. "The Bubak isn't even human and we have no connection to it."

There was a small silence as everybody knew Lydia was right. They'd never been so dumbfounded by a supernatural creature than right now, but none of them could think of anything at all to stop it. Nobody had ever had to deal with a Bubak before.

The brunette was deep in thought as her friends started to talk over the TV show playing on the television. She'd come up with small plans that always frustratingly came to a dead-end, some sort of inconvenience getting in the way.

Soon, it was just Harper, Stiles, and Lydia before the strawberry blonde got a text that sent her driving to her girlfriend's house, leaving just the ex-couple. Harper's dainty hand moved over to his large one that rested on his thigh as he watched TV and she intertwined their fingers.

Stiles smiled as he looked down at their hands before he glanced back up at her with soft eyes. He admired the way her short hair was slightly wavy, tucked behind her ears and letting him see her entire face that only had a little makeup on, accentuating her beautiful features. He loved her small nose and the way it crinkled a little when she smiled, and Stiles loved how rosy her lips always were.

"I sort of came up with a plan in my head," Harper climbed up onto her knees, her voice sickly sweet as sat on his lap, cupping his face in hers. "It might work."

"Tell me," Stiles was too mesmerised by her to even wonder what she was doing as she ran her hands up his chest and clasped them behind his neck, leaning on him a little.

"So, you know how Lydia said nobody has a connection with the Bubak?" She asked, earning a nod from the man beneath her. "Well, that's not entirely true because I have a connection with the Nogitsune who is inside the Bubak."

Stiles started to frown at this, catching on to why she was being so nice. He realised he was probably not going to like this plan.

"Where is this going?" He asked.

"Just hear me out, okay?" Harper huffed. "Nogitsune feeds of fear, chaos, and whatever else. Empath takes in fear and chaos all the time, right?"

"No, no, no," Stiles quickly realised what she was insinuating. "Harper, no."

"Stiles, if I became the host, which is actually possible because I did the ice bath and the door in my mind is technically not shut yet, then it would be a lot easier to get rid of this thing!" Harper protested. "Also, the Bubak wasn't alive until the Nogitsune possessed it. Maybe if it unpossesses it, we have the Bubak problem sorted. Then we know what to do with a Nogitsune."

Stiles went silent, knowing Harper had a point. "Harper, no. We can think of another plan, just not that one, okay?"

"This might be the only one! Like Malia said, the first step is separating it."

"Harper, you'll have nightmares for the rest of your life, if it even works," Stiles continued to argue. "It's not worth it."

"To save people it would be worth it!" Harper climbed off of his lap and stood up, folding her arms across her chest. "Stiles, I caused this!" Her voice nearly wavered but she remained strong, her jaw clenched. "Scott's okay to forgive me for the whole Allison thing, but you can't deny if I didn't do that, the Nogitsune wouldn't be free right now and all those people would still be alive!"

"It's not your fault," Stiles protested roughly, standing up too, his figure looming over her nearly intimidatingly. "When will you get that through your head?"

"When everyone is okay," Harper snapped back. "When Allison isn't dying and when your dad doesn't have to pick bodies off of the road every morning."

Stiles rose his hand to run it through his hair, freezing when he saw the way Harper flinched and nearly jumped back. The Stilinski man could have sworn that he heard his own heart smash into pieces there and then.

"Did- did you think I was going to hit you?" He asked, his tone a lot softer than before as Harper avoided his eyes. "I'm not him, Harper."

"I know," she mumbled, embarrassed. "Didn't mean to."

Stiles said nothing else but swallowed thickly and grabbed her small frame, gently pulling her into a hug where she laid her cheek against his chest, listening to the thumping of his heart. She closed her eyes as Stiles started to run his fingers through her hair.

"I'm not him because I love you," Stiles whispered, so quietly that Harper thought she misheard him at first.

She pulled away from him, not even a few inches away as she stared into his eyes. "I love you too, Stiles."

"You don't understand," Stiles shook his head. "It's impossible for me to be with anybody but you. I can't think of anyone but you. The past three years have been the worst of my life and I didn't stop loving you for a single second."

Harper felt herself tear up. "I understand because I feel the exact same way," she whispered, leaning up and gently holding his jaw to steer him closer to her height. "I never stopped loving you either. Do you remember when you asked if soulmates were real and I told you that I didn't know?" She asked, earning a nod. "I know."

Stiles didn't waste a single minute before he was pressing his lips against her, their eyes fluttering closed as Harper tugged slightly at his hair.

"I'm in love with you," Stiles repeated, pressing kisses down her neck. "Love you so much."

Harper gasped when he kissed the spot beneath her ear, holding him tighter. "I'm in love with you. Missed you."

Harper didn't mention her idea for the rest of the night, the pair spending their time proclaiming their undying love again and again between kisses.


	23. Chapter 23

Harper woke up to the feeling of fingers gliding through her hair. Her nose scrunched up a little, a small yawn escaping her swollen lips as she felt and listened to the heartbeat thumping softly beneath her cheek, the skin on skin contact making her feel warm. Everything was silent in the room, the only sounds being Stiles and Harper's steady breathing and the birds tweeting outside.

"G'morning," Stiles' gentle morning voice whispered, making Harper glance up and smile at the beautiful man holding her.

The sheets were tangled around their legs which were intertwined too, her arm thrown around his torso and his stronger arm keeping her frame as close to him as possible. Harper remembered how they used to wake up every day like this when they shared their crappy apartment on the edge of Beacon Hills. She'd missed this so much.

"Morning," Harper replied softly, her long eyelashes fluttering as she sat up a little so she could face him while still leaning on his chest, his fingers still working through her hair. "How long have you been awake?"

"Maybe ten minutes," Stiles shrugged and Harper took note of his scruffy bed hair, a giggle passing her rosy lips. "What?" He said almost self-consciously.

"Your hair," she murmured, her dainty hand reaching out to brush it down. "I can't get over how much it suits you. You had this exact same haircut when you were fifteen, remember?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah except I never cut it so it was worse than Scott's hair in sophomore year."

Harper laughed, "Your hair was so long your dad begged you to cut it for, like, three months."

The Stilinski man's smile brightened at a mixture of the memory and the laugh that had escaped Harper. His chest vibrated with his own laughter, nodding.

"I remember that. He bribed me with fifty bucks to cut it," Stiles snickered. "And then he gave me another fifteen to go get it cut at the barbers, but I got Scott to shave my head instead and I kept the sixty-five."

The Empath grinned, teeth and all. Her smile was so big that the corners of her eyes wrinkled a little and other lines appeared over her small features, her dark eyes nearly disappearing as she tilted her head back and laughed. Stiles felt his heart swell, his fingers nearly faltering in her wavy locks.

"You always were the smartest out of the three of us," Harper chuckled.

"Well, not really 'cause he wasn't meant to shave it all off," Stiles reminded her. "Scott put the wrong clippers on and he went straight down the middle and all I heard was 'Oh fuck' and my hair is falling into my lap."

"St-stop," Harper wheezed, hiding her face in his chest as her laughs became uncontrollable. "I hate Scott. He's the worst."

Stiles rumbled with laughter before he smiled softly. "You remember when you saw it the first time?" He asked, his voice barely above a murmur again as the woman in his arms calmed down.

Harper nodded. "Yeah, I told you that it suited you and then I kept running my hand through it because it pissed you off, like, every day for three months."

"It didn't actually annoy me," Stiles admitted bashfully. "I used to pretend to get annoyed because I knew it would make you do it more and I had the biggest crush on you."

Harper leaned up on her elbows, pouting at him with wide eyes. "Stiles!" She gasped. "You have never told me that. That- that's so sweet I could cry."

Stiles laughed and nudged her, shaking his head in amusement. "You're way too sappy. I just- I can't believe I got you to fall in love with me when my hair looked like that."

"Hey," Harper frowned at him, taking actual offence to his words. "I loved your buzzcut. It was adorable."

"Adorable was not what fifteen-year-old me was going for," Stiles joked back before the two of them found themselves in comfortable silence. "I don't think you ever went through an awkward phase."

"Oh, I for sure did."

"Like when?" The hazel-eyed man challenged her as Harper started to peel away from him, reaching down and grabbing his shirt on the floor, chucking it over her head.

"You remember when I was eleven and I got a fringe?" Harper sent him a pointed look, watching as Stiles thought for a second before he nodded with a grin, sitting up to see her clearer as she walked around the room, picking up their clothes.

"I still had a crush on you," Stiles disclaimed, "Even when you cried about it in front of the whole class when Mrs Appleton said it suited you."

Harper threw his underwear at his head, the FBI agent laughing as he dodged it. "I cried because I was sensitive about it."

Stiles shrugged the underwear on underneath the duvet before he climbed out of the bed and moved to wrap his strong arms around Harper, holding her from behind and swaying slightly. Harper's hands held onto his and she smiled, relaxing against him as she felt his lips lean down to press kisses to her jaw and neck.

"I love you, bubba," he used the nickname he always used to call her, nearly making Harper jump.

"I love you too, Sti."

She thought it might take them a while to get back to normal, but this was StilesAndHarper, and it was like nothing had ever happened in the first place.

...

Stiles and Harper separated a few hours later, Stiles going to help his dad while Harper made a move to the McCall-Argent residence. Harper was welcomed in by Scott who was with Derek and the three of them sat around the living room. When Scott placed a cup of coffee in Harper's hands, she began to talk.

She told them all about the plan she had told Stiles last night, the two werewolves listening intently to the Empath. Scott didn't look like he liked what Harper was saying, but Harper understood why. She wasn't being completely irrational- she was an Empath, for god's sake, she knew how they felt. But she knew the risk would be worth the reward.

Derek hesitated before he looked over at Scott. "It could work," he admitted.

"But what if it doesn't?" Scott thought out loud. "More people could end up dead, Harper included."

"But if we sit around and do nothing people are going to die anyway, Scott," Harper reminded him. "I mean, how many people were killed last night? How many people have already left Beacon Hills?"

Scott bit down on his thumb, deep in thought with his brows furrowed. He looked over at Derek and swallowed thickly.

"We need to do this right. Nothing can happen to Harper."

...

Harper was excited at the prospect of finally being able to do something right. She wanted to help her friends, to help the people in the town she grew up in, and she wanted to do it more than anything. The brunette was also a little nervous, some doubt in her mind about her plan. She knew it was a lack of self-confidence thing- if Stiles had come up with it then she would have a hundred percent confidence in it.

She knew Stiles wasn't going to like it. He thought after last night that she wouldn't even bring it up again, let alone go through with it. Harper thanked God that he was distracted with his dad for the day, but at the same time, she wanted to confess everything, the guilt swallowing her whole.

She'd gone through the plan over and over and over again with Deaton, Scott, Lydia, and Derek. Her friends were willing to do it instead, to be the host, but Deaton reminded them quickly that the Nogitsune had a fascination for Harper- even a connection. Plus, she was an Empath and he fed off of fear.

Taking Harper as a host would actually be smart. Not only would he not have to put in as much work as he was doing with the Bubak because Harper literally emitted emotion, but he'd get ten times more of the fear without having to touch the people that are actually scared.

Harper was a magnet for everything it craved.

Night had fallen and Stiles had texted Harper, asking if she was at her apartment. Harper didn't want to lie to him so she ignored it, her hands wringing together nervously from where she stood in between Derek and Scott.

"If anything goes wrong we're straight out there, remember?" Scott grabbed Harper's shoulder and sent her a reassuring look. "You're going to be okay."

"I know," Harper replied nearly breathlessly. "But can you promise me one thing?"

Her brother looked at her, knowing exactly what was coming.

"If something does happen, then you need to tell Stiles that I'm sorry, okay?" Harper spoke softly. "And I know you're going to say nothing will happen, but just promise me, Scotty."

Scott hesitated. "I promise."

...

The air was cold but that wasn't the reason Harper was trembling. Knowing her friends were close by was the only thing managing to calm her nerves as she stood in the middle of the car park outside the animal clinic, her heart pounding in her chest. All Harper knew was that she had to try her best- then nobody could say she didn't try to make things right.

That's all she wanted- to make things right.

She heard it before she saw it. It was coming up behind her, the remainder of its claws dragging on the floor below it. Harper squeezed her eyes shut, biting down her bottom lip and trying to calm her nerves. She knew it could smell her fear.

Before she could force herself to turn around and face the Bubak, Harper heard its claws start to rise slowly from the ground as it walked towards her. It was still a good fifty feet behind when she suddenly heard its staggered walk turn more into human-like steps.

Harper finally turned, her breath hitching at the sight of the Nogitsune. His bandaged body was clad in the same leather jacket it had been years ago, and his sharp teeth were on display as he gave her a twisted grin.

"Harper Verum," the Nogitsune cackled slowly. "Our first encounter that hasn't been in your head for a long time."

Harper clenched her jaw. "Can't say I missed it."

"Ah," he chuckled. "Now, what is somebody like you doing out here so late? Did you not hear about the curfew?" He mocked.

"I have a proposition," the brunette tried to sound as confident as possible, making the Nogitsune cock his head in curiosity. "One that could benefit both of us."

"I doubt that is true," the Nogistune sneered. "You cannot trick the trickster, Harper."

"No tricks," Harper lied. "I just want to protect my friends."

"Why would I help you?"

"Because I can help you too," Harper swallowed. "You take me as a host and you leave Beacon Hills, go feed off another town."

The Nogitsune looked offended by the idea. "And why would I do that?"

"I'm an Empath," Harper reminded him. "Do you realise how much fear you could have if I was the host? You wouldn't need to even be in the room to take someone's pain. You won't need to only come out at night, you can blend in the shadows instead of having people take one look at you and try to escape."

The Nogitsune seemed to like what she was saying, but he was still hesitant. "Why?"

"I can't watch my friends suffer," Harper admitted, "They don't know I'm here right now... I- I'm willing to do anything if you just leave this town alone."

"I can smell your desperation," he seemed to believe her. "Give me some first."

Harper knew what he was talking about, her teeth catching her bottom lip between them as she stepped forward and moved her dainty hand out. The Nogitsune's bandage wrapped hand moved out and their fingers intertwined. Harper gasped as she felt him start to take the fear and pain from her system, her veins growing black underneath her tan skin.

The Nogitsune pulled back, shuddering as he felt the new power in his system. "That was only a fraction of what's inside you, little dove," he realised in amazement, starting to circle the Empath like she was prey.

Harper knew he had taken the bait.

Her heart was pounding.

It was working.

She clenched her eyes shut when she felt the bandaged hands caress around her shoulders, feeling herself grow weaker as he took more and more of the emotion pent up inside her. Her frame rattled with fear, but the more she produced, the more he took. It was a vicious cycle.

"I think we have a deal, little dove," the Nogitsune muttered.

The Empath couldn't detect emotion from demons such as him, but she was sure he was excited. He'd been starved for so long- Harper was like a golden ticket in his eyes.

"You have to let me in," he whispered against her ear, making Harper cringe and she felt her bottom lip tremble, thoughts of how angry Stiles was going to be with her filling her head.

Before Harper could even close her eyes to concentrate on opening the door in her mind for the Nogitsune, she felt another flash of fear go through her. You can't trick a trickster. Did he know something she didn't? Surely the Nogitsune wasn't this gullible.

Harper started to hack away.

Suddenly, headlights lit up the car park and a blue jeep swung in, making Harper's eyes snap open wide. This was fate telling her not to do this- surely. She gasped as the Nogitsune grabbed both her shoulders and growled.

"Let me in!" He roared.

Harper winced and heard the jeep pull up close to them as her friends came running from the animal clinic. Stiles started to yell for the Nogitsune to let Harper go as he ran over, but Scott made it there first and tore the two apart.

"You tried to trick me?" The Nogitsune cackled and Harper watched as it started to take form of the Bubak, it growing by at least two feet and its claws extending

"Oh shit!" Stiles yelled, grabbing Harper as he began to back up towards the animal clinic.

Harper was breathing heavily as they made it through the doors and rushed to the windows where Deaton was, scrambling through his books to try and find anything that could slow the Bubak down.

"What were you thinking?" Stiles snapped at her as Harper peered anxiously through the windows, watching the werewolves and werecoyote try to take down the Bubak- this time they were more prepared than the last time since they were half-expecting something to go wrong.

"I was thinking that I had to do something, Stiles," Harper groaned, "And I love you so much, I really do, but I don't want to listen to you chew my ear off right now when our friends are in trouble."

Stiles ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "I figured out another way," Stiles swallowed, turning to Deaton and Allison. "Well, my dad and I did with the help of Lenard. It's not gonna be easy, but it's a whole lot better than separating them like that."

"What is it?" Lydia pressed.

"Lenard said, the only way to destroy the Bubak is to rip him apart bone by bone and bury him where he died and circle it in wolfsbane," Stiles replied quickly, watching as Deaton didn't reply but moved to where his jars were.

"How did you get him to talk?" The Banshee frowned. "He hasn't said a word in weeks."

"My dad promised him immunity from jail time," Stiles huffed, "I tried calling you all to tell you this over an hour ago, but nobody was answering their phones."

"We need to tell Scott," Harper ignored the remark from Stiles.

Their eyes widened when they saw a couple more figures join the fight before Stiles frowned. "Is... Is that Liam and Theo Raeken?"

"I think it is," Harper breathed in disbelief. "What are they doing together?" Lydia sent Harper a pointed look and Harper's face lit up in understanding. "No way! They hated each other."

"Eight years ago," Lydia mumbled absentmindedly as she watched Theo roar and run up on the Bubak. "From what Mason told me, the two of them actually formed some sort of friendship during the Wild Hunt in our senior year."

"Huh," Harper shrugged. "Good for them."

"Who's Theo?" Allison asked.

"Long story," Stiles grumbled, still not particularly a fan of the man.

"I'll go out there and tell Scott," the Argent woman declared, not missing the concerned look Harper sent her. "Don't worry, I'll stand by the door and talk. He'll hear me."

Allison didn't wait for Harper's approval before she moved outside the animal clinic. Harper watched the way Scott seemed to falter as he swung his claws at the Bubak, and she realised he must be listening to what Allison was telling him.

Malia was thrown across the car park, her body landing into a car and shattering the windscreen. Stiles gulped, his eyes casting over to where his jeep was parked nearby.

"They better not touch Roscoe," he muttered under his breath, earning an amused look from Harper.

Suddenly, Scott reached forward and grabbed one of the Bubak's ribs, tearing it away and making the creature wail out in response, the sound almost haunting. It echoed in everybody's ears, making the supernaturals outside cringe. Scott started yelling commands at everyone, and slowly everybody was starting to try and pull apart the monster.

"Oh, that's bloody disgusting," Harper turned away from the window, cringing as she watched Liam fling a bone across the car park and reach in for another one.

"It's working," Stiles whispered eagerly.

Harper winced when she felt a pressure in her stomach, doubling over in pain and releasing a sound of surprise. Stiles jumped from next to her, his large hands supporting her back as his face scrunched up in concern.

"What's happening?" Stiles panicked.

"Allison."


	24. Chapter 24

Stiles grabbed Harper, his hazel eyes wide as he inspected every inch of her body, looking for any sign of physical pain. Her face scrunched up and she leant her forehead on his shoulder for a second before pulling back.

"A-Allison, Stiles," Harper whimpered, "Quick."

The Stilinski man refused to leave Harper behind and instead wrapped one arm underneath her knees and the other around her waist, picking her up bridal style. One of Harper's hands clung to the grey shirt he was wearing as he kicked open the door of the animal clinic and found the huntress herself on the floor, pale and sweaty.

Stiles placed Harper down carefully next to her and then grabbed Allison's shoulders, giving her a gentle shake to make her eyes flicker open. Allison blinked between Stiles and Harper, a groan leaving her rosy lips.

"I don't know what's happening," Allison breathed shakily, "Everything hurts."

"I know, I know," Stiles panicked, glancing over in the direction of Scott and seeing him still in full Alpha werewolf mode, tearing apart the Bubak with everybody else.

Harper tried to focus on disconnecting from Allison and managed to do so within the next minute, putting a mental block in her head that stopped her from doing it again. The shorter brunette reached forward and pushed the hair off of Allison's head.

"You're gonna be okay, alright, Allison?" Harper spoke, but it was almost a plead. "Come on, keep those eyes open. You have a wedding to go to in less than two weeks, remember?"

A bitter smile passed Allison's face but was gone as quick as it came, her entire body shuddering as a new wave of pain hit her. She reached out and grabbed one of Harper's hands and one of Stiles', squeezing them. Harper and Stiles shared concerned glances, knowing their best friend's fiancee was in danger.

Deaton came jogging out with jars in his hands. "I have enough wolfsbane to form a circle around that thing ten times over."

"Cool. Now a little help with Allison please?" Stiles nearly glared at the Druid.

Deaton seemed to jump straight into action, placing the jars down and moving Harper and Stiles out of the way so that he could assess the sick woman.

Loud screams came from behind them, making Harper and Stiles whirl around quickly. Scott held the skull of the Bubak in his hands, blood caking his face and hands and arms, and he dug his hands into the eye sockets and pulled, a loud snap echoing throughout the car park.

He tossed it to the ground where a large pile of bones were, panting as he shared exhausted grins with the rest of the pack.

"Scott," Harper called warily. "It's Allison."

Their celebration was cut short. Scott's neck snapped in the direction of where Harper had called to him and he came running, his entire face scrunched up in agony and heartbreak.

"Allison, no, no, no," Scott panicked, already on the verge of tears as he fell down behind the woman, guiding her against him so he could hold her again.

Allison whimpered from where her head was resting on Scott's legs. Her skin was paler than usual as the True Alpha looked down at her desperately, cupping her face. It was an exact parallel to eight years ago, their friends watching helplessly as they panted, not yet recovering from just killing the Bubak.

"You need to get the bones to Henderson's basement and circle it with wolfsbane," Scott quickly glanced over to Theo and Liam. "Just- just go now. Go quick."

Derek went with them to show them where Henderson's house was, leaving everybody else to watch. Lydia had disappeared a couple of minutes ago, but nobody had noticed yet, all too focused on their dying friend.

This isn't fair, Harper kept thinking. This isn't fair.

"Allison, hang in there, okay?" Scott warned his fiancee, stroking her skin again.

"I can feel it this time," Allison whispered, her hand moving to hold his. "It hurts."

Scott's veins started to turn black and Harper hid her face in Stiles' chest, unable to watch. Stiles held onto her, his heart breaking at the sight. He hated that his best friend had to go through this for a second time, and he hated that Allison was suffering. The whole situation was all kinds of messed up.

"There's gotta be something we can do," Malia blinked back her tears as she folded her arms across her chest. "It's- It's Beacon Hills."

"Deaton?" Scott looked at the druid pleadingly.

Deaton's face was fallen. "I- I don't know, Scott. I'm sorry."

"No," he choked a cry as he cupped the back of Allison's head, bringing her closer to his chest as Allison sent him a pained smile.

"Scott, it's gonna be okay," Allison tried to reassure him.

Harper's heart felt like it was physically aching as she clung to Stiles tighter, tears falling from her brown eyes and cascading down her cheeks. Allison had been getting weaker over the past few weeks, but they didn't expect it to happen so abruptly. Maybe it was because they had torn apart the Bubak that had sped the process up.

"No, not this time," Scott whispered, "Not this time, Allison."

"Sc-"

"No, we're supposed to get married," the werewolf croaked. "We're supposed to go to Bali for our honeymoon and have kids and grow old. You promised me."

"Guys!"

Harper whirled around at the sound of Lydia's voice, her heels clicking on the ground as she ran back over to them, Chris, Melissa and a woman that Harper had never met before right behind her. Scott looked at the strawberry blonde hopefully.

"We have- we know how to help," Lydia panted as she dropped to her knees beside Allison, the two older adults and the stranger right next to her.

"You do?" Scott nearly choked on his own spit, his shining eyes lifting to meet Chris'.

Chris scoffed as he tilted Allison's head back. "You didn't think I'd let my daughter die again, did you?"

"We've been working on this for a few weeks now," Melissa elaborated to her son as she shuffled through the bag strapped to her side, pulling out a needle. "With the help of Ivy, I'm nearly a hundred percent sure I've worked this out."

Ivy must have been the woman holding onto Lydia, and Harper recognised the name, realising this was Lydia's new girlfriend.

Harper was aware that Melissa had become a doctor for the supernatural since Chris was whipped by one of the Ghost Riders back in their senior year, but she had to admit that she never really asked about work much whenever she FaceTimed her adoptive mother.

Deaton frowned at them curiously as Melissa popped the plastic protection off the needle and pressed it to Allison's neck, injecting it.

"What is it?" The Druid questioned.

"It's the nine herbs," Melissa replied absentmindedly as she dragged the needle away and watched Allison start to cough. "Crushed and mixed with a bunch of other things... How do you feel, honey?"

Allison was silent for a few moments as everybody watched her expectantly, her brown eyes blinking before she swallowed and took in a deep breath, her entire body feeling like it was free again. She smiled weakly up at her future mother-in-law as Scott laughed gleefully and brushed her hair out of her eyes, happy tears falling.

"I- I think I'm gonna be okay."

...

Scott got a call a few minutes later from Liam to say that they had done it. The Bubak's bones were burning in a circle of wolfsbane in the basement of Henderson's home and Sheriff Stilinski had already put in orders to get rid of the house and create a proper memorial for the deceased supernaturals.

"Well, we did it. Again," Stiles murmured as he and Harper stood on either side of Scott, the three of them sitting on the concrete steps that led up to the animal clinic while everybody else talked in the distance.

Harper laughed tiredly, her head falling to lean on Scott's shoulder. "Yeah, I could go without that for the rest of my life now."

"Now things are going to go back to normal again," Scott spoke. "Until next time."

Stiles groaned, "Don't say that, dude. You'll jinx it."

"Some of it was fun," Harper lifted her head to look at the two men. "I mean, I felt like a teenager again. Didn't you guys?"

"You were a teenager again," the Stilinski man retorted, making Scott and Harper giggle a little. "But yeah. When we weren't almost getting killed it did feel... kind of nostalgic."

The three best friends were plunged into silence. Memories of their teenagers years crept up on them and little smiles were absentmindedly drawn on their faces as they silently recalled the night Stiles turned up at their houses asking to go looking for a dead body, or when they went ice skating, the road trip they went on before their senior year, senior prom and graduation...

Now they were all adults with separate lives and jobs and responsibilities. If Harper could go back and do everything all over again, she would, and she wouldn't change a single thing. She knew her best friends felt the exact same way.

"I missed you guys," Harper murmured, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging them like a child, her eyes not moving from everybody else laughing across the car park.

"Awh, don't get sappy now, Verum," Scott sent her a small warning look as she shifted to face the men. "You'll make me cry."

Harper laughed a little and shook her head, looking down at her intertwined hands. "I mean it, though. You guys are the only family I have, so- so I just missed you a lot."

"Okay, I'm crying," the True Alpha cried dramatically and threw his arms around the smaller woman, making her laugh and hold him back.

Only seconds later was another pair of arms being thrown around them, Stiles releasing a fake cry that made them all laugh again. Harper's fingers grabbed the jacket Stiles wore as she wrapped her arms around Scott to reach him. Stiles held them both, his head resting on Scott's shoulder.

Sheriff Stilinski looked up from where he had heard his son making strange noises, raising his brows at the sight of the three adults all sandwiching each other at the top of the stairs outside the animal clinic.

He shook his head with a scoff, a smile of amusement crossing his face. "They're big kids- all three of them."

Melissa chuckled from beside him, watching the trio too. "They're like a little family. I can't remember a time where it wasn't ScottHarperandStiles against the world."

"I don't think they can either."

Scott smiled from where he was listening to their parents, giving his two best friends one last squeeze before he pulled away.

"I better go see how Allison's doing," Scott spoke, although he knew Allison was perfectly fine stood with her father, Lydia and Lydia's girlfriend- he wanted Harper and Stiles to talk.

The pair watched as the werewolf jogged down the steps and then moved over to his fiancee, throwing his arms around her from behind and making her laugh in shock. Harper beamed at the sight, feeling her heart go mush as she thought about how much those two had been through to get where they were right now.

"Harper, can we talk?" Stiles suddenly murmured from beside her.

Harper sighed. "If this is about me nearly sacrificing myself then I'm sorry, I realise how dumb I was being-"

"No, no, no," Stiles cut her off. "Not that. Even though I probably should give you the whole speech or whatever, but you're fine right now and I don't feel like fighting with you- ever again."

The Empath gave him a small nod to continue.

"I was just thinking. Now that this is all over, once Scott and Allison get married everybody's gonna be going back," Stiles reached forward and grabbed her small hands. "But I don't want to go back alone. I don't want to live anywhere that's not with you again."

Butterflies soared in Harper's stomach and she felt her cheeks and ears heat up, a giddy feeling floating throughout her entire body. She squeezed his hands tight.

"What are you saying?"

"That I don't care where you want to go. Manhattan, Beacon Hills, hell, even England- I want to follow you there. I don't want this to end," the hazel-eyed man concluded. "I need you, Harper."

"I need you too, Stiles," Harper murmured and leaned forwards to kiss him hard on the lips.

She cupped his cheek as his hand immediately moved to hold the back of her head, their lips twisting and locking. Harper shifted her body closer to him, feeling his warmth and inhaling the intoxicating scent of his cologne. She wished she could do this forever and ever, but eventually, they had to part for air.

"This does mean you'll be my girlfriend again, right?" Stiles asked shyly, and Harper nearly giggled at how much he reminded her of his teenage self there and then.

She grinned widely. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

Scott, Allison, Stiles, and Harper would all end up with their first loves eventually, it was written in the stars.


	25. Chapter 25

"You like it?"

"Yeah, it's nice."

"Are you sure? You don't sound sure."

"Stiles, I love it."

The Stilinski man released a stressed sigh and rubbed his large hand over his forehead, sending the woman beside him a nervous smile. Harper rolled her eyes in amusement and reached up on her tiptoes to grab his hand, forcing it away from his face and around her waist instead. Stiles didn't protest, his other arm moving to join.

"I just want this to be perfect," Stiles murmured as he looked down at her, his hazel eyes twinkling like something out of a romance film. "I don't want us to end up like we did last time."

Harper felt a metaphorical shiver run up and down her spine at the thought. Her lips pursed into a straight line as she shook her head at him, determined.

"Stiles, it's all different now," Harper reassured him. "We were so over our heads last time. We weren't making enough money for rent, we had new jobs, bills to pay, we barely saw each other..." Her voice trailed off before she detached her arms from Stiles and moved back a little. "You know what I think?"

Stiles smiled a little at the perkiness of her tone. "What do you think?"

"We were meant to be apart for a little bit so we could come back together and be even better together," Harper declared. "And I wholeheartedly believe that we're gonna be okay, Stiles, because if the past three years have taught me anything then it's that I can't be without you."

"So this is it?" Stiles gestured around to the empty apartment that they stood in. "You promise me you like this and you're not just saying it to make me happy?"

"Stiles!" Harper whined with a laugh before she realised he was deadly serious and she straightened up, grabbing his hand again. "I promise that I love this apartment and I'm not just saying it to make you happy."

There was a small moment where Stiles squinted his eyes at her, trying to catch her out, but he sensed pure sincerity and broke out into a grin. He reached forward and tugged Harper into a hug, lifting her small frame off of the ground and spinning her around a little as she laughed and smacked his shoulder, burying her face into the crook of his neck.

Some people might call them idiots for planning on moving in with each other so soon. After all, they hadn't even been back together for three weeks yet. However, Harper and Stiles had lived with each other before, they'd grown up together, and they'd been in love since they were sixteen-years-old. Both wanted to move back to Beacon Hills, so it just made sense to them.

Why take things slow when they could just pick up from where they left off?

"I love you so much," he murmured before he pressed his lips to hers briefly for a kiss. "And I will keep saying that over and over to make up for the three years I didn't get to."

"I love you too," Harper promised. "But, just so you know, we're having the furniture from my apartment. I bet you have whatever couch was going cheapest, right?"

Stiles grinned knowingly. "It's the most amazing orange colour-"

"Stop, I don't wanna hear it," the brunette raised her hand to his face, which he simply grabbed and moved down. "How much's the rent on this place?"

"Nothing that will break us," Stiles shrugged his shoulders. "And the landlord can't have us move in for another three weeks anyway, so it's perfect."

Harper and Stiles would have to go back to their apartments to get their stuff and sort things out with their work. Apparently, it wasn't hard for Stiles to get relocated, especially to a town like Beacon Hills, and the company Harper worked for had a place only twenty minutes outside of their little town that she could work at.

Everything was perfect for once in their lives.

As Harper started to smooth her palms up and down Stiles' arms, her phone buzzed in her pocket, making her roll her eyes.

"Bride duty," she waved the screen at him. "I can't believe tomorrow's the big day."

"Me either," Stiles exhaled. "Scott's a nervous wreck."

"I know. He made me proofread his vows for the eighth time last night," Harper grinned as she grabbed her bag from the table she'd put it on and swung it over her shoulder. "If I don't see you for the rest of the day then I guess I'll see you at the wedding tomorrow."

"Of course," Stiles murmured and planted a kiss on her lips.

...

Harper sat inside the sink with her legs curled up, countless products of makeup sprawled out across the countertop and stains of foundation smeared on the mirror a little. Lydia stood next to the brunette, her full lips parted as she leaned as close as she possibly could to her reflection and applied the mascara to her lashes.

"How's Allison getting on?" The Empath questioned as she patted the concealer down underneath her eyes.

"Makeup artist is still working her magic," Lydia glanced down at the rose gold watch hanging on her wrist and pursed her lips. "We still have another two hours before the service starts, don't worry."

The brunette giggled, "I'm just so nervous for both of them! I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Scott's actually getting married today. I mean, it feels like yesterday we were having sleepovers and refusing to watch Star Wars with Stiles."

"I don't know how I ended up friends with you guys," Lydia joked under her breath, earning a small shove from Harper.

"Guys, have I done this right?" Malia stumbled into the large bathroom of the hotel, eyeliner in one hand and a small mirror in the other.

Harper sucked a breath in at the black mess around the werecoyote's eyes and Malia instantly recognised the reaction- she had not done it right. While Harper clearly found it funny, Lydia groaned and slammed her mascara shut before shuffling through her makeup bag and throwing wipes at Malia.

"Don't rub hard or you'll make your eyes red, okay?" Lydia grabbed the taller girl's shoulders and steered her over to the mirror. "Now let me or Harps do your makeup."

"I can't," Harper replied half-heartedly as she finished putting the red tint on her lips. "Sorry, but I have to go to Scott and Stiles' hotel room quick, I promised them."

"What? Why?" Lydia pressed, becoming even more stressed.

"Relax, Lyds. Only for ten minutes max. Allison already said it was okay," Harper wriggled her way out of the sink.

While Harper was Allison's bridesmaids and one of the girls, she'd started everything with Scott and Stiles. Maybe traditions meant she should just stay with Allison before the wedding, but Scott was getting married too and he was not only her brother but had been her best friend since they were just nine. The thought of not seeing him before the big day felt wrong.

Lydia seemed to understand this and sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat. "I guess I can quickly help with your makeup," she told Malia before pointing a finger at Harper. "But you better hurry back."

"Of course, of course," Harper ducked out of the bathroom and smiled at Allison as she walked past the bride-to-be who was busy getting her hair and makeup down simultaneously by two different women. "Hey. I'll be back in a bit."

"Okay, tell Scott I love him!" Allison smiled softly.

It didn't take long for Harper to reach the hotel room that Scott and Stiles were staying in. She pushed the door open, the stench of cologne filling her nose as she heard loud cheers come from the living room. Harper raised her brows as she found Scott and Stiles sat in front of a TV, PS controllers in their hands and their suits on but their tyes undone and messy around their necks.

"I swear to god you two," Harper scolded them both, making them both jump and turn to face her with wide eyes. She cracked a smile. "Just kidding. You both look so handsome!"

Scott and Stiles both relaxed but chucked the remotes away from them and stood up. Scott wrapped Harper into a hug, making the brunette laugh and hug him back.

"You look beautiful too," Scott pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Thanks. Allison says she loves you, by the way," Harper said, making his smile widen as he pulled away from her.

"Scott's right, you look beautiful, Harps," Stiles murmured and pecked her lips, being careful not to smudge any of the makeup that she had clearly spent her time on. "But what brings you to the man cave?"

"Dunno, probably the fact that my best friend is getting married in less than three hours," the brunette grinned. "How exciting is that?"

Scott nodded in acknowledgement. "Very exciting."

"I have to be back in, like, six minutes anyway or Lydia will murder me," Harper clicked her phone off from where she'd briefly checked the time. "She wants me to practice my walk 'cause she's scared I'm gonna trip down the aisle or whatever. Malia too."

Scott scoffed. "That would actually be funny. Argent just left to go to your room by the way. He's excited to walk Allison down."

Stiles rolled his hazel eyes. "You seriously need to stop calling your father in law by his last name."

Harper smiled at the thought of Chris being excited to walk his daughter down the aisle. For a moment, Harper wondered who would walk her down the aisle when her big day eventually came around. Sheriff Stilinski was the closest thing she had to a father figure, but that would be a little weird since he's literally Stiles' dad. It would probably be Scott or Isaac since they were her brothers-

"Earth to Harper," Stiles waved his hand in front of her face. "Kind of zoned out on us there."

Harper shook her head as if to rid herself of the thoughts. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"I asked how Allison's doing." Scott rolled his eyes at her.

"Oh! She's great, she's great. She's getting her hair and makeup done right now actually," Harper replied. "She looks stunning, you're lucky Scott."

"Don't go stealing my woman." The werewolf glared at her playfully.

"Allison's straighter than a ruler, don't worry," Harper joked back.

Stiles' face scrunched up. "That's your reason for not getting with Allison? Not the fact that you already have a boyfriend?"

"That too," Harper shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at her lips when the Stilinski man pouted. "Anyways! I should probably get my arse in gear or else Lydia will be grabbing me by the throat and taking me back to our room."

"Kinky," Scott replied and Stiles shoved him. 

"Dude! Stop making jokes about my girlfriend and our friends," Stiles whined. "I don't care if it's your wedding day, I'll literally kill you until you're dead."

Harper rolled her eyes at her two friends. "I'm going now."

"Wait!" Stiles grabbed her shoulder gently and pulled her back before she could leave. "Don't you guys think this calls for a group hug? You know, since this is the last time we'll all be hanging out as unmarried people?"

"That's the most pathetic reason for a group hug in the history of group hugs," Harper deadpanned but sighed when she saw the look on her boyfriend's face.

Stiles was a sentimental sap, really. He was like this on their last day of school, or at the senior scribe, or when he moved out of his dad's house and into the apartment with Harper. She knew how much he didn't like change— it was a childhood thing after his mother died that had stuck with him forever.

Scott shrugged. "I'm not opposed to a lil group lovin'."

Harper scoffed in amusement and reached for both of the taller men, dragging them towards her. Stiles gave a satisfied smile as the group shared their last hug before one of them really did grow up.

...

The ceremony went by pretty quickly and, thankfully, smoothly. Harper had walked down after Lydia and Liam with her arm linked with Stiles', and then came Malia and Liam. From where Harper stood off to her side with the two other bridesmaids, she'd been trying not to cry the entire time, especially when Chris kissed Allison in the forehead and gave her away to Scott.

Stiles shot her teasing looks from the other side every time he watched her finger dart up to collect a tear, but the grin on his face was as wide as it could possibly be. Both of them were so happy to see Scott getting married— he deserved this after so many years of looking after them and this entire town.

Scott and Allison both spoke their vows flawlessly, minus a couple of pauses from Scott when the werewolf was overcome with emotion. Harper held her hand on her heart, and when the wedding officiant declared them husband and wife, the Empath nearly broke out into sobs there and then.

"Hey, you," Stiles came up behind her from where she was pouring herself a drink from the Pimm's bowl. "Saw you crying, pussy."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Harper grinned as she grabbed her cup and moved away from the drinks table set by the large fountain. "I'm an Empath."

"Oh, that's your excuse?"

Harper shrugged. "I think it's a pretty good one."

She raised the cup to her lips and took a swig before Allison and Scott came over to them both. It appeared that their skin was glowing, their eyes bright and their hands clasped. Allison wrapped her arms around Harper's shoulders and took the shorter woman into a hug.

"Hey, you didn't trip!" Allison grinned.

"Congratulations, guys," Harper dismissed her words with a playful smile. "Is it Allison McCall now?"

"Allison Argent-McCall," the woman replied. "The feminist inside me said don't take his name and the romantic inside me said fucking take it."

Harper laughed. "Allison Argent-McCall sounds good."

"Allison!" Somebody called her from across the grass area they stood on.

"Sorry," Allison sent her an apologetic look. "I'll talk to you at dinner."

"Of course."

She turned back to Scott and Stiles who were talking. "So," she said loudly, catching both their attention. "You got any The Neighbourhood songs on your playlist?"

Scott rolled his eyes at her. "Harper. How many times do I have to tell you that their music is way too dark for a wedding?"

Harper sighed.

...

"Weddings last way too long," Harper groaned as she pulled her heels off her feet, going straight down from five foot five to five foot one.

They'd done the ceremony, socialised with everyone in the gardens of the hotels, taken pictures, had the dinner in the hall which included speeches, more socialising, and now they were in some sort of grand hall where Scott and Allison had had their first dance together less than twenty minutes ago.

She swayed slightly at the height change and Stiles steadied her with his hand, raising his brows. Now, instead of coming up to around his jaw, Harper was a whole head and neck shorter like she always had been.

"Don't even," she raised a finger to silence him when she saw the smirk on his foot. "Short jokes are so old."

Being a whole nine inches shorter than Stiles didn't really bother either of them. In fact, even if Harper complained about being short every other day, she had to admit she liked the difference. Stiles did too— he loved how she always had to reach on her toes to kiss him and he had to lean down a little.

"Maybe I wasn't going to make a short joke," Stiles huffed.

"Oh yeah?" Harper raised a brow. "Then what were you gonna say?"

"Maybe I was going to ask if you wanted to dance." He gestured to the dance floor.

Harper allowed the sly grin to cross her face and she nodded, extending her hand to him. He took it and led her to where everybody was dancing. The pair moved like nobody was watching, singing loudly to whatever song played next. 

"How much have you two had to drink?" Derek chuckled at them as he tried to move through the crowd with drinks in his hands.

"We're just having fun, old man," Stiles called back as the werewolf disappeared.

They danced for ages after that and when a slow song came on, Harper wrapped her arms around Stiles' neck, looking up at him. She loved how when he was drunk you could tell just by looking at him. His skin seemed to glow a little and his hazel eyes were straining to be kept open, appearing even darker under this light and framed by lashes Harper would kill for.

"I wanna do this again sometime." Stiles ducked his head down onto Harper's shoulder and spoke against her ear. "But you'll be wearing something like Allison is."

Harper's breath nearly hitched in her throat. "A wedding dress?" She asked, feeling him nod against her. "You're so tipsy right now."

"But I mean it. Like you said yesterday, the universe put us apart for a good reason," Stiles mumbled.

Harper exhaled quietly. "I love you."

"I know. I love you too." He pressed a kiss to Harper's neck. "Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?"

The brunette giggled and ran her fingers through the back of his hair. "Too many times."

"It's true though."

Harper leaned into Stiles too, the two of them just swaying together in the middle of the dance floor. This was love.


	26. Chapter 26

Four weeks ago, if you asked Harper Verum if she was happy she would have said no. Maybe you would have looked at her incredulously, pointed out the nice apartment she lived in or the rewarding career path she had chosen. In response, she probably would have told you how growing up was a scam and how adulthood is lonely and that love is dead--

Now, she took it all back.

Stiles Stilinski stood behind her, his body warmth like a cocoon around her petite frame as he slung his arms around her shoulders and made them sway gently. She held her hands on his wrists as she laughed at something Malia Tate said, the rest of the pack echoing her small giggles.

"Derek, the burgers are burning!" Isaac Lahey panicked from where he stood over the barbeque near the side of the McCall residence, causing the Hale man to quickly put his beer bottle on the ground and jog over.

Harper smiled gently at the pair, not minding the smell of burnt food that travelled over along with the gentle Californian breeze. It brushed through her dark hair and cooled her tanning skin, parting Stiles' long hair too and making him temporarily pull away to fix it. Music played through the speakers nearby and Harper could hear Allison and Scott's neighbours in the garden over, also having some sort of party for themselves.

"You guys excited for Bali?" Harper asked the newly-wed couple.

Allison nodded eagerly. "Of course! We have massages booked for when we land."

"Fancy."

The conversation quickly drifted to Scott and Allison's plans on their week-long trip, everybody adding their own input while Lydia Martin progressively became more and more jealous as Allison showed her pictures of the hotel they would be staying in. Add in some sarcastic commentary from Stiles, a few dumb questions from Malia, and confused looks from Liam Dubar and it was just your average pack hangout.

Stiles' phone buzzed in his back pocket and he peeled one arm away from Harper to check it, holding it in front of them both so he could read it. Harper could feel the way his chest rose and fell against her back as he breathed, his chin resting on top of her head as she peeked to see what was on the screen.

"No way," Stiles grinned.

"What?" Harper frowned.

"The landlord said we can move in in the next two weeks now, instead of four," he summarised and Harper squeezed his wrists excitedly.

"You're moving in together?" Liam exclaimed. "I'm sorry, when were you gonna tell us this information?"

"Oh, yeah," Harper shrugged. "Stiles and I are moving in together."

Liam rolled his blue eyes at the woman while everybody started to give their congratulations- aside from Scott who already knew, of course.

For her entire life, it felt like Harper was constantly trying to get over obstacles or suffering for something she'd probably done in a past life, but right now it felt like everything was worth it. Her friends weren't just her friends, they were her family and her pack- not many people could say that they had relationships like that. Finally, nearly twenty-five-years later, Harper felt like she was getting the break she deserved.

"You smell nice," Stiles murmured against her ear when he realised she'd zoned out.

Harper jumped a little and laughed quietly at him. "Thanks. I'm surprised you can smell it over the burgers Isaac and Derek are cremating over there."

"Hey!" Isaac called.

"We can hear you, you know," Derek huffed, clearly stressed as he tried to flip the burgers that were blacker than the hair on top of his head. "I think we gotta start again."

Harper giggled, pulling away from Stiles. The Stilinski man pouted teasingly at her as she walked over to Derek and Isaac, looking down at the mess they'd made.

"I don't think you have to start again, I know you need to start again," Harper retorted, earning a glare from both men. "Sorry, sorry," she laughed and put her hands in the air defensively. "Hey, I'll go get another pack from the fridge. It's fine."

"Thanks, Harper," Derek reluctantly huffed as the brunette gave him a teasing salute and moved into the kitchen of the McCall household.

The wedding had only happened two days ago now and that meant everybody's time in Beacon Hills was coming to an end in the morning. Scott and Allison would be flying off on their honeymoon, Stiles and Harper were going back to Manhattan and New Orleans to pack their stuff and sort their apartments, and everybody else was going home. A few members of the pack had hinted that they wanted to move back to Beacon Hills at some point, but Harper thought it sounded too good to be true so she didn't hold her breath.

Truth be told, the brunette woman didn't want this all to come to an end. The past month had been the best in over three years now. She wished it could stay like this forever.

As Harper opened the fridge and scanned the contents inside, she suddenly felt a chill down her spine. Something was wrong. Her Empathic senses made her stomach drop and her veins buzz with the sickening sensation of pure dread. Then, a much more human primal instinct took over- she could feel that she was being watched.

"What are you doing here, Harper?" She heard his broken voice before she turned. "Why did you come here?"

Freezing in her spot, the petite woman swallowed thickly and forced herself to come face to face with Calum Davis. He stood inside the doorway of the kitchen, his shaking hand extended in front of him and a pistol trembling in his tight grip. His eyes were rimmed red and he looked exhausted, tears streaming down his face as he sniffled.

Harper slowly turned around, her heart beating rapidly in her chest when she saw Matt Daehler stood there with a gun. His blue eyes were filled with tears as he sent her a smirk, cocking his head.

He pressed the barrel of the gun to her forehead and leaned in, his lips pressed against her ear. She felt the bile rising in her throat and her entire body start to shake. She couldn't help but wonder- was this how her parents felt right before they were shot dead?

"You're going to move your pretty little ass and lead me to where you friends are, got it sweetie?" His voice came out in a harsh whisper, his hot breath hitting her ear and causing her to cry out a little, clenching her teeth from the amount of fear that she was feeling.

Matt pressed the gun further into her forehead when she didn't reply, causing her to hesitantly nod. She slowly began to lead the way, Matt moving behind her and pressing the gun to her back.

When she blinked, Matt Daehler stood there, the gun pointed at her, and she had to blink again to get rid of him. Harper struggled to believe that this was the second time a boy who was obsessed with her had stalked her and then held her at gunpoint, but here she was, stood in Allison and Scott's kitchen, a gun in her face, and most importantly alone.

He was completely unhinged.

"Calum," Harper's palms spread open and she held them to her sides. "Why don't you put the gun down and we can talk this out?"

When Stiles had first taken up his FBI training, he'd taught Harper a trick or two about how to escape situations like these. Those mini-lessons had been years ago now, but thankfully Harper had seen enough movies to know what not to do.

"I asked to talk. I begged to talk, Harper. But you left me. You ignored me for weeks," Calum cried, waving the gun about and making Harper flinch. "Why did you do that to me, Harper? I thought we were in love!"

Never had Harper once declared her love for Calum- ever. However, she wasn't going to try and piss him off right now. Hopefully, if she kept him distracted long enough, Derek or Isaac would wonder what was taking her so long and come and help her.

"Calum, I- I was distracted. We can talk now, okay? Let's talk," Harper pleaded with him, feeling her bottom lip start to tremble no matter how much she willed it not to.

She didn't even want to know how he knew she would be here today, or how he'd gotten into Scott and Allison's house. Whoever the man in front of her was, she didn't know him.

"I saw you with him," Calum whispered, brown eyes growing wide. "I saw him kiss you and you let him hold you. You... You don't love me?"

Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fuck-

She heard the back door open and her knees nearly buckled in relief-- until she heard the soft, "Harps?"

No. No. No.

"Scott and Allison's neighbours invited us around theirs for their barbecue instead 'cause they said they cooked too much and they've got this massive pool and the others have already gone over-"

Stiles didn't have supernatural strength or speed and he couldn't heal if he got a bullet wound to the chest. Harper's eyes quickly filled with panicked tears and before she could react or say anything, Stiles called her name one more time and was suddenly in the kitchen, Harper in between the two men.

As Stiles froze in his tracks, his hazel eyes growing, Calum released a dry laugh and pointed the gun between them both from where Stiles stood a few feet behind her.

"Look who it is," he snapped. "Mr Stiles Stilinski! Just the man we were talking about."

"It's Calum, right?" Stiles held his hands up, his voice a lot calmer than Harper would have expected it to be. "Calum, why don't you put the gun down? I'm sure you don't actually want to hurt Harper."

"Maybe I do wanna hurt her!" Calum's chest heaved as he looked back at the brunette, tears falling down his face. "Maybe I want to hurt her like she hurt me. Put her six feet under and then spit on her fucking grave."

Harper swallowed at his words, wondering how somebody could hold so much hatred for one person. The Empath sensed Stiles growing furious from behind her, his nerves also tangling with her senses as she prayed either one of their friends came in or Stiles worked out what the hell to do to make Calum put the gun away.

"I get that you're upset, I really do, but if you do that, Calum, then you'll only end up in a jail cell and it won't be worth it," Stiles continued, inching closer and closer without the other man even realising it. "It's not worth it. I promise."

Calum looked down, his face scrunching up in agony as he contemplated what to do, and Stiles took that split second as his chance out. He pushed Harper to the side, the woman instantly ducking and holding her arms over her head, as Stiles tackled Calum. She heard the combination of their grunts as they rolled over for a second to try and gain dominance over the weapon.

Frozen over in shock, Harper scrambled off of her hands and knees and started to run to the door that led outside. She needed to get the attention of their friends who had wandered next door, but she only got a few feet away before a gunshot ran out.

She shrieked in surprise and felt a dull ache in her stomach, but she wasn't the one that had been shot. Her heart nearly snapped in her chest as she whirled back around, eyes wide.

Stiles.

Stiles was on the ground, weakly trying to get Calum off of him as the slightly taller man straddled him, laughing and pushing the gun against Stiles' temple. Harper felt like she was going to throw up, instantly changing direction and running back over as fast as he legs could possibly take her. 

Before Calum could pull the trigger, Harper had jumped on his back and pushed him to the ground next to Stiles. She raised her fist quickly and sent it straight to his face, listening to the sickening crack of Calum's nose and feeling the throb in her knuckles instantly. Calum raised his hands and wrapped them around Harper's throat, flipping them over so her back was pressed against the hard ground.

"Ha- Harper," Stiles groaned and tried to flip himself over to help, losing strength instantly and feeling his eyes start to shut, his brain burning with the image of Harper being choked by someone twice her size.

Was this going to be the last thing he saw before he bled out?

Harper barely made out his voice over the blood rushing in her ears, a whimper escaping her lips as she clawed at his hands to get him off. When she felt her head start to go faint, she thought quickly and jammed her thumbs into Calum's eyes, making him yell out and let her go.

As soon as she was given the second of freedom, Harper jumped up, her eyes darting about for the gun but not finding it. She reacted quickly and grasped a knife from the kitchen counter, holding it behind her back as Calum rubbed his eyes and released a loud grunt before furiously looking at her.

"There's a reason you're always the damsel in distress, Harper," Calum spat. "Why you're the weakest member of your little pack and you've never won a single fight without the help of somebody else. You're so pathetic! And, yeah, that's right- I know what you are, and I know what your friends are."

He started moving closer, Harper's heart thumping frantically. "Can you feel his bullet wound right now? Can you feel the life seeping from him?" Calum pressed. "Do you think your Banshee friend knows you're about to die just like your bitch ass boyfriend?!"

As his large hands grabbed a hold of her shoulders, a crazed look in his dark eyes, Harper pulled the knife out from behind her and drove it into his stomach. For a split second, the grip that Calum had on her tightened and then faded, his fingers falling away from her skin as he stumbled backwards, looking down at his impaled torso in pure horror.

"F-Fuck you, you psychotic arsehole," Harper exhaled shakily, her chest heaving with panic as she tightened her jaw.

Calum's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he held onto the blade stuck in his body, stumbling back even further before he fell with a thump to the ground and then an ear-piercing scream rattled from the house next door.

Lydia's scream.

She immediately felt her hands start to shake frantically and her gaze snapped to Stiles whose eyes were closed and she nearly screamed.

"Stiles!" Harper sobbed, crouching down beside him, her bloody hands tilting his face towards her. "Stiles, c'mon, don't do this to me."

Her cries made him stir, his hazel eyes barely opening as he sent her a weak smile. Harper only sobbed louder as his large hand moved up to cup her cheek and she shook her head.

"Please don't do this-"

"Harper," Stiles whispered, nearly being cut short by the whimper that quickly followed. "You did good. I'm- I'm sorry I couldn't help."

She was faintly aware of doors being slammed open and the yells of her friends, but she was barely aware of what was going on around her, only focused on her boyfriend who was looking into her eyes with his own watery hazel ones.

A single tear slid down his cheek as his slender fingers brushed her hair from her face.

"No, no, no, no," Harper pleaded with him, her hot tears falling onto his hand. "Sti, please. Please, please."

Stiles' thumb brushed one of her tears away before hands were grabbing her under her arms and tugging her backwards. She thrashed around in their grip, swinging her arms and kicking her feet on the floor.

"No!" Harper screamed so loud that it felt like her vocal chords were going to rip. "Put me down! Put me down! I need- I need to see him. Stiles! Stiles!"

Maybe it's Isaac who's pulling her away- maybe it's Liam- she doesn't know- all she can see behind the blurred tears are her friends crowding around the love of her life and Lydia yelling commands that make her heart pound even harder.

"Stop," Harper pleaded with them. "Let me see him. Let me—"

"Harper," it was Derek that had her, and when she blinked he was right in front of her and they were outside. "You need to calm down."

The brunette wiped her tears with her wrists, making whimpering sounds that perhaps a child would make. Derek's hand was on her shoulder, giving her reassuring squeezes every now and then, glancing between Harper and the glass in the door where he could see Scott giving Stiles mouth-to-mouth.

Oh God, he thought, and steered Harper's head away so she couldn't see.

"Derek, please. I need to know he's gonna be okay," Harper cried as the sounds of sirens picked up in the distance.

Derek held onto her tighter, unable to give her the reassuring words Harper needed.

...

Life seemed to like to play jokes on Harper.

Everything felt like a test. One second everything in her life would be perfect, and then it could literally be flipped upside down as soon as she turned her back and started to relax. It started when her parents told her they were moving to Beacon Hills- a small town in a huge country Harper had only ever heard of a few times before.

She thought that that was the worst thing that could happen to a kid- that they could be torn away from their friends and forced to live in some strange place. However, then Harper met Scott and Stiles and everything was okay again. Until her parents died, of course. Which did bring her closer to her grandmother, but then her grandmother died and-

You get the point.

When Deaton explained regression of the mean to them all those years ago, Harper didn't know why it applied so extremely to her. Everything was either really good or really bad- there seemed to be no in between in her upside-down life.

Her hands hadn't stopped shaking in days, no matter how hard she willed them not to. She could shove them in her pockets or try to write, but it didn't stop. No matter how much she washed her hands, it felt like she could still feel and see the blood caked on them, and when her eyes closed, she could hear the BANG!

When she slept in her bed, cold and alone, she dreamt of his fading hazel eyes and the way he'd tried to reassure her with the little strength he had left in him.

Everything led back to him, no matter what she was doing.

Harper glanced down at the flowers wrapped in her hands and furrowed her brows when she realised that some were out of place. Her fingers delicately parted the yellow roses, catching on a thorn and making her hiss out in pain. She brought her thumb to her lips and sucked at the blood bubbling, her tired eyes looking down at the black boots she wore.

As she walked past the town's florist this morning, she saw the yellow roses and couldn't resist- they were the same colour as the sundress he'd loved on her.

The elevator doors slid open and Harper moved down the hallway, clutching the flowers even tighter and returning a weak smile to the stranger that passed by. She just looked at her shoes for the remainder of the short trip until she finally reached her destination.

"There she is."

The voice of her boyfriend brought a smile to her face, a genuine one, and she glanced up- seeing him sat up in his bed.

His skin was finally starting to gain some colour to it, his long hair shaggier than usual around his face and his beard starting to grow out a bit. He looked excited to see her, as if he hadn't had any human interaction in years despite his father only leaving him literally half an hour ago.

"G'morning, handsome," Harper greeted Stiles with a smile, wiggling the bouquet in her hands and making her boyfriend raise his brows in surprise.

"You got me flowers?" He cooed, his whisky eyes nearly melting under the fluorescent lights of the hospital room as he took them from her hands, looking her in the eyes.

"I did," Harper chirped, smoothing her dress down as she sat in the seat next to Stiles' bed and moved it as close as it would go so she could take one of his hands and rest it on the mattress. "Do you like them?"

"I love them, bubba," Stiles promised, looking at them all and then back at her. "Do you mind putting them on the side for me?"

"Yeah, course."

Harper placed the flowers she'd bought him next to all of the cards and balloons that he'd gotten from members of the pack and other people they'd gone to school with. The story was all over the news, and not just local. Harper had to avoid news reporters by coming through the back entrance of the hospital, thanks to Melissa who always stood there waiting for her with a sympathetic smile and a hot chocolate from one of the machines.

"Tomorrow's the big day," Stiles stretched his arms out in front of him a little. "I can't wait to get outta this place."

Harper giggled at him as she took his hand and held it, Stiles intertwining their fingers. "I can't wait for you to leave either. I hate hospitals."

"I know. Me too."

The couple shifted into a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other's presence for a moment or two. "We haven't spoken about what happened yet," Stiles scratched the back of his neck with his freehand, watching the way Harper's face awkwardly turned from him. "We have to at some point, Harps."

"I know," Harper whispered, "I just wish I didn't have to."

"You'll feel better for it afterwards," Stiles promised her. "After I told you about Donavon, it was like a weight had literally been lifted off of my shoulders."

Healing was a process that Harper had encountered dozens of times in her twenty-four years of being alive. She'd done it so many times at this point that she knew Stiles was right- she wouldn't heal if she just bottled it all up to herself.

"Everything happened so fast," Harper admitted. "Some parts I don't even remember. I just remember him screaming in my face and I saw you struggling on the ground and- and I did what I did."

"You mean you saved both of us?" Stiles reassured the brunette, his hand moving up to brush through her hair. "I heard some parts- when- when I was in and out of consciousness. You're not weak or pathetic like he told you, Harper. You saved my life."

Harper's eyes welled with tears and she laughed unsurely, brushing them away before they could fall. "Our friends had to drag me away because I was just crying."

"Understandably so." The Stilinski man frowned. "I'm pretty sure I would be doing the same thing if you were in a position like that."

"No, no- you think quickly. You're smarter than me," Harper argued.

"Not when it comes to you," Stiles sent her a sort of half-smile. "When we couldn't find you in Mexico, I was a panicky mess and I forgot everything from my FBI training. Like, everything. But that doesn't take away from the fact that you saved us, Harper. He would have shot me in the head if you didn't do what you did, and that would have really sucked."

Harper snorted. "Yeah, it would have sucked." She moved her palm out to touch his cheek and brushed her thumb under his eye. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Stiles murmured, leaning forwards and kissing her reassuringly.

"You need to shave," Harper whispered as soon as they pulled back, making Stiles laugh.

"Oh, come on. I look so badass and manly," the hazel-eyed man teased.

"I prefer you with a little less," Harper admitted before running her hand through the hair on top of his head. "I do like this, though."

"I washed it this morning."

"I can tell. It's nice and shiny."

The couple began to talk about whatever came to their minds next, never pausing for awkward silence or having no clue what to say next. Their hands only parted when Stiles moved his hands to tell a story, or when Harper got them Reeses to share from the vending machine across the hall, and it was the way they liked it.

...

"Hey, hey, take it easy," Harper scolded Stiles as the man heaved a couple boxes through the door of their brand new apartment. "Scott and Isaac said they'd deal with the heavy boxes. You shouldn't be straining too much or you could hurt yourself and-"

Stiles chuckled at her as he placed the boxes down on a coffee table nearby, holding Harper's elbows and guiding the woman over to the tall window that overlooked part of the town, the same forest that the three friends had gone body-hunting in years ago skimming the skyline. The sun was setting and splattering pink and orange tones across the pale sky, casting golden light through the glass and onto their faces.

"If you think you can distract me with the view then you are totally wrong, Stiles Stilinski. You promised you wouldn't-"

Stiles pressed his lips against her to quieten her this time, catching Harper off guard and making her eyes flutter closed. Her eyelashes brushed her cheeks as she put one hand on Stiles' jaw, kissing him back just as intensely. When they heard the laughter of their friends outside, they pulled away, leaning their foreheads against each other and staring breathlessly.

"You've already forced the antibiotics down my throat and cleaned my bandage twice today, bubs," he stroked her skin as he smiled and shook his head. "You gotta stop worrying about me. I'm fine."

Harper exhaled loudly, pouting at her boyfriend a little. "I'm allowed to worry about you. I love you."

"I know, and I love you too." Stiles gave her one last short kiss before Scott and Isaac came through their apartment door.

"This is the last of it," Isaac grunted, placing them down next to all of the other boxes and looking around at the living space that had a lot of unpacking to do. "Good luck."

"Thanks, Isaac," Harper leaned up on her toes and gave him a quick hug which he returned before wiping the hair off of his forehead and releasing a sigh.

"Well, I'm sweaty now so I should probably get back to my own apartment," he declared.

Stiles and Harper thanked him one more time and walked him the short distance to the door to say goodbye properly, watching until the tall man had turned the corner before realising Scott had left the room. Harper shut the door behind her as Scott came barreling in from the kitchen, a big grin on his face and three opened bottles of beer in his hands.

"You can't even get drunk and you hate the taste of beer, dude," Stiles reminded their best friend with a roll of the hazel eyes, grabbing two and handing one to Harper.

Scott shrugged. "Yeah, but it looks cool."

Harper laughed and reached up to ruffle his hair, making the werewolf whine and move away from her. The trio fell backwards onto the cream couch Harper had taken from her old apartment back in Manhattan, kicking their legs up on the coffee table. Well, Scott and Stiles did- Harper's legs were too short to reach so she just rested hers on Stiles' extended limbs.

She raised the bottle to her lips and took a swig, the cold liquid gliding down her throat and making her sigh in relief. "September's coming soon."

"What does that mean?" Scott frowned.

"Nine years since we went through those woods right there," Harper lifted her arm and pointed out the window at the skyline, making both men peer over. "Can you believe next year it will be ten?"

Stiles found himself smiling at the nostalgia. "I got beat up three times that night."

Scott and Harper both sent him looks of confusion.

"One from Scott with a baseball bat, the other by Harper and her freaking poster packaging, and then my dad when he found me and you in the woods," Stiles recalled, earning a small ripple of chuckles from his best friends. "I'm so glad I listened to my dad's radio that night."

"Me too," Harper and Scott both replied simultaneously.

"I always wonder what life would be like now if you hadn't," Scott admitted. "For starters, I wouldn't be with Allison right now. We wouldn't know Malia, or Isaac and Lydia would only wanna know Harper."

Stiles nodded. "It's weird how life works out."

Harper thought about Stiles' words for a few minutes. He was completely right. Life had a fucked up way of making sure things ultimately turned out okay in the end.

As she sat in between Scott and Stiles, the three of them just enjoying each other's presence, she knew that this was what happiness was to her. It wasn't the fancy apartment in Manhattan or her job or all of the cute dresses she bought on her weekend trips into town- it was this.

And so, even if Harper was constantly being chucked into situations that totally sucked, the counterbalance was definitely the two men sat either side of her.

The trio had started it this way, and Harper was pretty sure they'd end it this way too. Every single time they always seemed to find themselves coming back together, like the bond between them wouldn't allow it any other way. Harper didn't mind it, and she knew Scott and Stiles didn't either.

It was Scott, Harper, and Stiles against the world-- and it always would be.


	27. epilogue

"Hey, dude, can you take a picture of us?"

Stiles Stilinski's American accent stuck out like a sore thumb over the hundreds of Londoners trying to go about their daily business, a few glancing over at him as he stuck his phone out to a stranger sat nearby. The man, who was probably in his forties, stared at them for a second before he sighed and rolled his eyes, grabbing the device from Stiles.

Harper Stilinski giggled, knowing exactly what was most likely running through the stranger's head right now. It wasn't a secret that Europeans didn't particularly like American tourists or the way Stiles had just called him 'dude', but her grin only brightened at Stiles' obliviousness as he jogged back to Harper, shooting her a thumbs up with an innocent look on his face- he'd been trying to get someone to take a photo for nearly five minutes now.

"Told you someone would," Stiles huffed as he wrapped an arm around her, the two of them leaning back against the concrete wall of Westminster Bridge.

The newlyweds smiled eagerly for the camera, Stiles breaking character and rolling his eyes when someone walked straight in front of them and ruined the shot. Harper smacked his wrist gently and he straightened back up, forcing a beam as the stranger continued to take shots.

"Thanks, man," Stiles accepted the phone back after a bit, waving the man off as the couple moved out of the crowds of people to look at the photographs. "Aw, we look so cute!"

"Like proper tourists," Harper agreed, watching as Stiles swiped through all of the shots.

Despite being so awkward, the couple somehow ended up photogenic, and so Harper thought all the pictures looked amazing- good enough to be turned into canvases and put on their walls back home. The background was beautiful too. They'd found the perfect spot on the bridge where you could see the water of the Thames and the London Eye, as well as the County Hall.

Stiles shoved his phone back into the pocket of his shorts before bending down and pressing a quick kiss to his wife's lips.

"Where to now?" Stiles questioned, tilting his head up to look over the crowds of people when he saw a red double-decker go by, tourists on top and taking pictures of the London Eye. "We could do that!"

Harper glanced over to where he was looking, scrunching her nose up. "Get stuck on a bus for three hours? I don't think so."

"Oh, come on, Harps! It will be fun and we'll see the whole city," Stiles protested, his hazel eyes blinking at her pleadingly.

"But Sti, we only have today and tomorrow left in England and trust me when I tell you those things aren't worth it," the Empath promised him. "I vote we get the tube to Buckingham Palace, then we go to Chinatown for dinner."

Stiles looked like he was contemplating what Harper was saying, chewing on the inside of his cheek before admitting defeat with an exaggerated sigh. Harper grinned at him.

"Fine! As long as we can go to M&M World like you promised," Stiles held out his pinkie finger and Harper linked them.

He wrapped his strong arm around Harper's shoulders and the pair continued down the bridge, trying to avoid the people who weren't looking where they were going. Most of the people around them were tourists just like them, coming from all over the globe. Harper felt some sort of nostalgia flow through her being in London, but this time as a tourist and with her very American husband.

When they planned their honeymoon, Harper and Stiles had picked four places in Europe that they'd always wanted to go to and decided to travel instead of hanging around a beach for two weeks. Harper didn't particularly fancy going to London since she'd already been a dozen times in her lifetime, but Stiles had insisted and she agreed-- as long as he let her plan it so she didn't have to suffer through hundreds of history lessons from overly enthusiastic tour guides.

"Hi, Scott!"

Stiles' eager voice echoed from the hotel room into the bathroom, making Harper roll her eyes and smile in amusement. She wandered out, her robe wrapped around her body and her wet hair sprawled across her shoulders as she found the Stilinski man laying across the double bed, on FaceTime with their best friend.

"Hi," Scott's voice crackled due to the connection as Harper flopped on the bed next to her husband, waving. "Harper!"

"Hiya," the brunette smiled. "Couldn't wait a couple of days to call us?"

"I still don't see why I couldn't come with you guys."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Ur, probably 'cause it's our honeymoon, dude."

"And am I not to thank for the relationship you two have?" Scott scoffed. "If you didn't put glue in my hair, Ms Monday would have never put Harper in between us to separate us."

Harper laughed at the memory. "You're right, Scotty. We are so sorry you were not invited on our honeymoon."

It hadn't even been four days since they'd seen their werewolf best friend at their wedding, where Scott had given possibly the most embarrassing best man's speech in the history of wedding speeches. He had over a decade's worth of shit to pin on the couple getting married, not to mention how he'd gotten Isaac to help him write it. To say Harper's stomach hurt afterwards would be an understatement- she thought she was going to die laughing. 

Harper thought back on her wedding day with a grin on her face. It was hard not to- the entire thing had been so perfect and extremely long-overdue.

The princess dress she wore as she walked down the aisle had brought Stiles to tears from where he stood next to Scott, his best man of course, and Harper had quietly teased him about it when they were asked to join hands in front of everybody, making a few of the werewolves snort.

She could still remember all of the songs that played that night as Harper and Stiles shared their first dance and then continued to get a little tipsy at their own wedding. Noah had also been an emotional mess, more than excited to see the pair finally tie the knot.

"How's our baby?"

Scott grinned at them before taking a moment to flip the camera, revealing his back garden where Harper and Stiles' puppy was sunbathing on the grass near where Allison was lying. Harper considered the little Westie to be her actual child.

Stiles and Harper walked into the pet store looking for a Labrador, but as soon as Harper laid eyes on the ball of white fur trying to play with the bigger dogs, she released an inhuman screech that Stiles knew meant she was not leaving without that puppy.

"She's good," Scott spoke before he flipped the camera back onto himself. "What time is it over there?"

"Um," Harper pressed her own phone and looked at the time. "Nearly twelve at night."

"Yeah, we're gonna head to bed," Stiles gave the McCall man a small salute. "We have places to be, sights to see!"

Scott reluctantly hung up after a couple of minutes and Harper climbed off the bed to grab her pyjamas from off the back of a chair. As Stiles started to get comfy under the duvet, she slipped them on and brushed through her hair before climbing in beside him. She immediately felt much warmer, especially with the soft patter of London rain on their windows going on outside.

Stiles wrapped his arm around Harper and let her lay on his chest, his eyes closing. Harper smiled and snuggled into him.

"Brighton tomorrow," Harper yawned sleepily.

"Can't wait," Stiles murmured, holding her tighter. "Did you like growing up there?"

"Yeah, it was nice," Harper spoke after she thought about it for a moment. "I was obsessed with this American diner by the seafront and my grandma and I used to go there every summer we came back, so we totally gotta go."

"Goes to Europe to eat food we get back home," Stiles scoffed sarcastically. "Makes sense."

Harper peered up at him with raised brows and a judgemental look on her face. "What? You wanna eat chip butties on the beach instead?"

Stiles' face scrunched up. "I'm sorry- did you just say 'butty'?"

Harper laughed and nodded. "Yeah, you put chips in bread with mayo or tomato sauce. It's like... a delicacy."

"Chips as in fries?"

"Stiles," the brunette scolded him, flipping over to she was on top of him feigning anger. "We have known each other for nearly eighteen years, you know what I mean."

"I know, I just like to annoy you."

Harper rolled her eyes and kissed his nose before flopping back down onto the mattress and letting him hold her again. His fingertips traced patterns across her tanned skin and her eyes fluttered shut as she relished in the feeling of comfort.

"I love you, Harper Stilinski," Stiles' voice was quiet as he felt himself falling unconscious.

"I love you too, bubba." Harper blushed a little at her new name, kissing his jaw gently and listening as his heartbeat steadied from where she rested on top of him, feeling sleep start to take over.

Harper and Stiles fell asleep, excited for the next couple of weeks where they'd be visiting places all across Europe, including a Eurotunnel trip to Paris once they'd finished Brighton tomorrow. But more importantly, they couldn't wait to get back home and be together officially as husband and wife in the home they'd worked hard for.

They knew being married wasn't going to be a walk in the park- there would be ups and downs, just like there had been in their relationship, but they were so in love that they both knew there wasn't anything they weren't willing to work through.

New employment opportunities, potential children, growing old, illness, death, the supernatural- Harper and Stiles promised to do it all together.

And they would.


End file.
